


These Tangled Strings

by ArraLeBlanc



Category: Original Work
Genre: Awkward Romance, Bisexual Female Character, Canon LGBTQ Female Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, F/F, Fate & Destiny, Lesbian Character of Color, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Queer Families, Red String of Fate, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Romance, Tied in Red
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-01-21 12:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21299834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArraLeBlanc/pseuds/ArraLeBlanc
Summary: Tamryn Sealy has been dreaming about Red Week all her life. The moment when she would be tied to her soulmate by the now visible red string on their pinkies. A whole week to learn each other's hearts, to explore the world around them, and finally end the week with a tender kiss so they can break the string and start a life together.She had wanted the fairy tale but what she got was stereotypical punk with gravity defying purple hair, a contemptuous smirk, and boots that could, and maybe have, killed a man. In all her dreams, in all the entries in her Red Week Book, not once did Tamryn account for someone like Winifred Yung.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tied in Red](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/531605) by Scrah. 

> This work takes place in the Tied in Red universe where couples who are connected by a red string of fate are granted one week of bonding time, free from work and school and other societal obligations. My good friend Scrah created the webcomic and allowed me to write my own story within that universe about my two characters. These Tangled Strings was first written in 2014 and was independently published February 2019 but I left my publishers due to professional differences so I'm making this story available for free. I will update every Sunday with a new chapter.

I was the kind of teenager who kept a Red Week book. Sure there was also the wedding book but my main focus was my dream Red Week. It wasn’t so much imagining and planning what my fated partner at the end of that red string would look like or be like; there was no point in dreaming up your ideal soulmate when you had no say in the matter about appearances or personality, which some kids were awfully bitter about. Therefore, I focused my planning on events and other ways to make the best out of the one week that fated couples were granted to spend together when they’re first tied.

It had clippings from magazines of ideal outfits that I could wear on our dates, restaurant menus and takeout places that offered Red Week discounts, lists of hotels that also offered deals in case we didn’t want to stay at each other’s apartments or, worst case scenarios, our family’s houses. Also included were reviews and summaries of all my favorite movies that I’d want to share with my fated person. Of course, these updated and changed as I grew older - although many animated films stayed because you never grow out of your love for those.

There were also rules. I refused to kiss before Red Week was over. This was an event that had to be right at the end. No kissing to break the string and return to our regularly scheduled lives, none of that. I wanted my Red Week, the whole week, even if things didn’t turn out to be fate with this person. I had to give them a chance; give them time to give me a chance. Because that’s what I feared most about the string tugging on my finger where others hoped for it - what if it wasn’t a match, despite what fate said? Sometimes fate got things wrong and people didn’t end up staying together.

I wanted the fairytale. 

What I got was Winifred Yung.

Didn’t matter if it was from a distance or up close, she appeared to be your stereotypical bad girl dipped in molten punk. The only thing that wasn’t sleek about her was the fluffy, purple mohawk atop her head. It wasn’t that high but it was full of volume and seemed to be defying gravity without a hint of product making it greasy or stiff.

I was frightened the first time I saw her, all the way on the other side of that red string that was now tying us together. Her lips unsmiling, thick black shades covered her no doubt scowling eyes, and to top it all off she had a cigarette between two fingers on the same hand that donned the red string.

But imagine this: A punk girl wearing a studded leather jacket, high waisted ripped shorts, zombie gauze leggings that matched her zombie theme tank top, boots that could crush someone’s testicles, and her name was Winnie.

I couldn’t get over how cute she was. I was incredibly intimidated, yes, but all I wanted to do was run my hands through her soft hair. (Spoiler alert: it wasn’t defying gravity without the aid or hair product and was therefore not soft.)

At the time, I wasn’t wearing my ideal floral summer dress and high heeled pink sandals that I had picked out for optimal Red String attraction. My box braids were in desperate need of a touch-up that I had been putting off in favor of school work and because finding a black hairstylist in the area was rather difficult. Plus, I had only bothered to put on a bit of concealer and lip gloss before running out the door to class. Thankfully, in my haste this morning, I did throw on a flattering long sleeved dress with an empire waistline and my dark grey boots to match the midnight blue shade of my dress.

Here’s the thing. She was on the other side of the quad, leaning against the railing that stopped students from falling into the outside dining area that was almost never used because it was perpetually winter during the school season; even early autumn had a rough chill to it. I had walked out of my dorm, realized that I’d forgotten my Chemistry textbook, turned back to go and grab it from my room and suddenly I was yanked backwards. The tug nearly had me on my butt from how bad it startled me. Winnie, on the other hand, didn’t appear to notice. When I turned to follow the line of red connecting me to another person, she had her cigarette in her hand as though nothing had jerked on it. If it had been me, I would have dropped the cigarette instantly (both from being pulled and from not wanting disgusting nicotine in my mouth or lungs).

She didn’t seem to be looking at me and I was rather tempted to try and sneak away before she could see that her hand was tied to someone else from a long distance. But if I had tried that, the string would only shorten and tug us back together - fate wasn’t happy if you tried to run from it.

“Are you ever going to come over here?”

I responded to her call in what I found to be the most appropriate method: complete and utter silence. Several minutes of us standing there, in the quad, with me staring at her, the string, my hand, her cigarette, and repeat.

Finally she figured out that I was mostly catatonic and kicked off the railing, walking toward me on her ball-crushing platform boots. She was steps away from me, close enough that I could get a glimpse of her eyes behind the shades, so naturally I blurted out, “Please put out your cigarette!” only crammed together from what was probably a dead space bar on the keyboard of my mouth.

She stopped instantly, expression unfaltering as she lifted one foot, balanced easily on the other, and gently stubbed out the end of the half-smoked cigarette on the bottom of her boot. It was almost hot. How nonchalant she was about the whole ordeal, how she managed to not fall over balancing on only one high platform boot, how she placed the rest of the cigarette behind her ear when she was done. Except smoking was gross, so five point deduction.

Thus began our first conversation:

Me: Uh, thank you?

Her: So, I guess I’m staying here for more than a weekend.

Me: You don’t go here?

Her: No, I’m visiting my little sister.

Me: Oh.

And back into the awkward silence I went.

She sighed, lifting up her shades and my heart decided it was going to throw itself against the inside of my chest. Her eyes were gorgeous. Such a rich shade of brown that glowed beautifully in the sunlight.

“Do you just wanna break the damn thing, then?” She raised her hand, the red standing out against the vibrant purple nail polish. She had nice hands. It only now registered how long and slender her fingers were. She could have been a hand model.

Then it hit me.

“Wait, what?”

She shrugged, “I won’t miss any classes, you’ll get to go back to doing whatever you-”

“We can’t  _ break  _ the string! You can’t do that until the end of the week! It’s the rule!”

Her left brow rose into a well defined arch. “Did your mother teach you these rules? Because I have news for you-”

“No, I know there are no formal rules to string breaking. It’s my rule. I have guidelines and-”

She laughed in a way that was almost a scoff. Though it didn’t sound mocking or offend me in any way, it did shut me up. “Wait, are you one of those kids who made those dream books about Red Week?”

I averted my gaze and the heat in my cheeks answered that question for me.

“That’s adorable.”

The way she sounded almost affectionate made me look back at her face. Sure enough, she was smiling at me. It wasn’t a wide, toothy smile. Mostly it was the corner of her lip pulling into a smirk while the other corner decided it was going to sit this one out and maybe play the next round of what I hoped was flirting. Except flirting with someone that looked like she could either kill me or dominate me without a complaint from myself was a skill I hadn’t quite acquired during my first month of university life.

“Well, I guess I have to go to the administration's office and tell them I’m on Red Week,” was my cliche yet entirely legitimate way to stop these awkward pauses from taking over what was definitely the worst first impression I had ever made.

Thankfully, she nodded and said she would have to call her school and do the same, along with her sister who she was supposed to meet up with when fate decided that was no longer in her immediate plans. Apparently her kid sister was famous for being late, sometimes more than an hour without so much as a text message, so it wasn’t a big deal if she left the quad to go with me.

I did my best to ignore the clapping, whistling and general catcalls that we received as we walked across campus, red string dangling between our hands. I was determined to salvage this and turn it into the week of my dreams. Not even my extensive book could compare to the reality we were going to make.

***

“Okay,” she declared as she flipped her cell phone shut and I tried not to be amazed that people still owned flip-phones. “Show me this book of yours.”

I jumped from where I was sitting on the cement wall in front of the student centre. She had walked a little ways away from me to call her sister about the string and I had glanced down at my own phone and couldn’t think of who to call. I had sent an email off to my aunt but hadn’t checked her response.

“You want to see it?” Not that I didn’t enjoy showing off my hard work to those who rarely expressed interest in viewing it. My book would put anyone else’s Red Week book to shame. I had also dreamed of sharing this book with my partner during the week; there was even a blank section entitled “Your Dreams.” It simply didn’t occur to me that she would be the type of person to  _ want  _ to look at a Red Week book.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She shrugged and I watched the string shrink as she walked closer to me.

There were a lot of reasons why she might not want to see my book. Mostly centering around the assumption that “this chick is obsessive and will probably end up planning out entire future to the hour, I must run away as soon as we break the string and never look back.” Which, to be fair, was one of my recurring nightmares.

“Am I allowed to see it?”

Instead of elaborating on my fears and doubts of what she might think of me, I nodded and led her back across campus to my dorm. Cue more string applause and whistles.

***

My dorm was, let’s say-

“This is the most pristine room I’ve ever been in. Do you have those plastic furniture covers for your chair and bed when you’re away? Because I feel like those belong here.”

-Organized.

“I- no.”

“Sorry,” she smiled, the same lopsided grin she’d given me earlier. I did not like how blushy I felt around her. “I like it. My floor is comprised of clothing—dirty or clean I never know—so it’s a nice change.”

Oh dear, I’d gotten myself hitched to a slob.

“What side of the bed do you prefer?” she asked as she flopped down on the bed with a little hop. It looked like she wanted to spread herself out, but she resisted and sat with her hands on either side of her to hold her upright. The testicle-crushing boots remained on her feet even though I had taken off my sandals at the door. It had a mat for my shoes and I intended to use it. Maybe I’d gain the confidence to get her to use it during the week.

I stammered a moment at the question. I couldn’t exactly tell her I prefered all sides of the bed. At once. Stretching in my sleep was one of the few unorganized things about myself. More than a few times I woke up half  _ off _ the bed, often leading to my face being on the floor. Which was why there was an extra soft floor mat next to my bed.

Then again, the point of Red Week was to get to know each other, grow closer - flaws and all. We had a formal appointment with the resident string assistant, or that was what the upperclassman called him, and he would tell us more about the string and Red Week. Wasn’t much he could tell me that I didn’t already know, but it would be good for us.

I decided to change the subject instead. “I thought you wanted to see my book?” 

She laughed a bit, leaning back on her elbows as she looked me over. I felt horribly vulnerable under her scrutinizing eyes. It seemed as though she would brush it off, admit that she never wanted to see it to begin with. She didn’t. She patted my bed, right next to where she was sitting. “Bring it over.”

That led me to my closet, which earned me more praise or mockery about how neat and tidy my room was. “Do you have that closet alphabetized? Or are you more of a dewey decimal system kind of person?” 

I brought my book out from its hiding place and spread my hand over the top - partially to cover it and also because it was precious to me in that silly kind of way that teens were embarrassed by yet brutally protective of their childhood stuffed animals. When I sat down next to her, she didn’t scoot away to make room for me, she stayed close to me, let my knee brush against hers even though I hadn’t meant to sit that close. As though her heart was skipping the same way mine was at the contact.

I took a deep breath as she waited patiently for me to remove my hand, and then she blinked down at the large red binder, decorated in glitter and beads and all those things a young teenage girl would decorate her notebooks with before she realized how tacky it was. 

She wasn’t grinning when I glanced at her, but there was a fondness to her voice when she questioned, “Tamryn?”

“Yeah?”

“Hah, okay. Just checking. It’s on the front of the book.”

Oh.

“Oh my gosh!” I buried my face in my hands. I had dragged this girl around campus, brought her back to my dorm room, and we hadn’t even introduced ourselves. For someone who built what could possibly win the world record of “Most Detailed Red Week Book” I was not focused on the task.

“You are Tamryn, right?”

I laughed into my hands, though it probably sounded more like a sob from someone so ashamed that they wanted to crawl into their overly organized closet. “Yes. Yes, hi, I’m Tamryn.”

“Winifred Yung.”

I could hear it in her voice. The laugh she was trying to hold back to keep me from feeling more embarrassed. It was a kindness that I greatly appreciated.

“Sealy. Is my last name.” I mumbled through my fingers. She gave me hers so obviously I had to follow suit. Formalities and all that.

“You can call me whatever you want. Fred, Winnie, the whole thing. I’m flexible.”

I smiled into my hands. “Winnie.”

“The bear has nothing to do with it.”

“Of course not,” I grinned, the joke having been seconds away from my lips.

“I was a Tigger kid myself.”

I was not surprised. “I liked Roo.”

“She lives!” Winnie exclaimed as I lifted my head from my hands and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her. “And she brings sarcasm with her. Which means we’re in the perfect attitude to take a look at this book. Though judging by the thickness, it feels more like you’ve planned for a Red Month.”

My mouth opened in mostly feigned offense at her playfulness, “They’re options! We don’t have to do everything.”

“That’s no good. I have to do them all. It’s the only way I’ll impress you into saying a full sentence to me.”

Again my jaw fell open but no words came out. She was right. I was barely speaking more than short sentences to her but the more she spoke, the less intimidating she got. I wasn’t sure if she was putting on an act to make me feel more comfortable but I wasn’t exactly going to complain about it.

“I think you greatly underestimate how much time I’ve put into this book.”

“Life is nothing without a challenge.”

“Then here’s yours,” I grinned as I flipped the cover, revealing the first page.

My hands were shaking slightly as we thumbed through the pages, but I gradually became less mortified as she continuously pointed to things, asked questions, showed  _ genuine interest _ in what I’d worked on for a good many years.

She crossed out some restaurants with a pen she lifted from my desk, and some movies were ticked off as seen or not interested. She was picky when it came to romcoms and she had already seen all the Jim Henson movies, plus she would not go see anything 3D in theatres. At one point, when going through the wardrobe pages, she suggested that I stick to dresses with soft fabrics to make cuddling more comfortable and that turned my blush five shades darker. 

“Let’s take a trip out to Moncton tomorrow,” she announced when we had turned to the page about hotels and no, there was no way my cheeks could go brighter even if she tried. They were at maximum blush, red overload, no more room for embarrassing moments.

“I’ll have to pick up some clothes from my dorm, and then we can hit the mall, go to the aquarium” — she had been paying attention to my page about how romantic aquariums were — “plus Magic Mountain has Red Week discounts!”

That sounded much more agreeable. Except.

“That’s not in the book,” I placed my hand on said book for emphasis.

A mischievous grin spread across her lips and went straight into her eyes. She was absolutely up to no good. Her hand brushed over mine and I started, enough that my hand lifted off the book giving her the opportunity to flip the pages over to the empty ones, the section that was marked “Your Dreams.” She pulled my pen out from inside her boot, of all places, and wrote  _ Magic Mountain  _ in the dead center of the first page.

“It is now.”

I flopped backwards on the bed with a loud sigh. I hated water parks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, I'd love to hear any feedback anyone has on this story (it's been hiding away for many years so I'm excited to put it out into the world again).
> 
> Follow me on other social media: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/arraleblanc) [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/arraleblanc/)
> 
> A new chapter will be up next Sunday! Thanks for reading!


	2. Day Two

“Oh hell, you weren’t kidding about starfishing in your sleep,” Winnie said as she twisted her back, cracking it in a way that made me shudder before she stretched her arms.

To be fair, I hadn’t phrased it as starfishing. Furthermore, I had intended to keep to my side of the bed, but I did give her fair warning that I, and I’m quoting myself here,  _ “tend to sprawl across the bed in my sleep. I don’t mean to, but my limbs sort of-” _

_ “Put their claim on everything? Yeah that’s fine, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind the odd cuddle.” _

I had warned her. She simply did not heed the warning well enough.

“Yeah, that was not just the odd cuddle,” she announced as she cracked more of her joints. I honestly didn’t know how she wasn’t breaking herself from the noises her body was making.

I shrugged one of my shoulders. I didn’t know what to say at this point, instead I focused on taking off my satin scarf that was holding my hair in place and fixing my curls. 

“I’m rather impressed with your range. I felt thoroughly covered by limbs. Which was a blessing, because you managed to hog all the blankets.”

I frowned as I stared at her, complaints rolling off her tongue and I did not know what to do with myself. A sour feeling rose in my stomach and suddenly I was talking before I could filter my words. “If it was such an unpleasant experience one of us can sleep on the floor next time.”

I was expecting a snark, a glare, a sharp ‘fine’, or something else negative. Instead, she  _ smiled _ at me. A bright beaming smile that had my heart dancing against my rib cage.

“Oh no, I’m not giving up the eternal night hug. You’re stuck with me in your clutches for six more days. Minimum.”

My jaw sort of went slack and no words came out. I was doomed. Simple as that.

We dressed in mostly silence, both facing different sides of the room after she had rummaged through my wardrobe to find something appropriate to her tastes. I didn’t think she would find anything, especially considering how small she was and how most of my clothing had floral prints on them. Somehow she managed to find a t-shirt that wasn’t too baggy on her and tied it into a crop-top. Next, she threw my black scarf around her shoulders, put her shorts back on, ditching the leggings today, and stepped into her boots. I’ll be honest; she was hot.

This time I put on the dress that I was meant to be wearing the first time we met. I had known first meeting attire wasn’t exactly something I could plan for but I had hoped fate would work out for me, which was why I wore this dress more often than any other clothes in my wardrobe. Plus, soft floral fabric, perfect for cuddling.

What got me the most was how Winnie continued to flip through my Red Week book while I packed my bathing suit and a towel without ever having been prompted to look through it again.

“Okay,” I said once I finished looking up the schedule on my laptop. Winnie glanced up from the book, placing her hand on the spot she had left off, “If we leave in about twenty minutes, we can walk to the bus station and grab the next one out to Moncton. It should only take a half hour on the bus, I’m not sure, I haven’t taken it before.”

She smirked. “Oh, that’s cute.”

Clearly I was confused at how my scheduling ahead of time could be cute. I was only making sure we could actually get to the place that  _ she  _ wanted to go. Not me. Stupid water parks. 

Judging by her laugh, I had displayed this confusion and mild irritation on my face. “We’re not taking the bus.”

“Oh?” There was no chance in hell I was walking all that way. I knew people who did that. It took forever. They came out of it with sunburns and blisters. I was not going to be one of those people. And a taxi that far would be way too expensive.

“We’re taking Hera.”

“What’s a Hera?”

“She’s my baby.”

***

Her baby was a mess. There was no sugar coating it. The back seat was full, and I mean to the brim, with old fast food bags and wrappers, along with Sobeys bags and who knew what else under there. The front seat could be loosely described as decent. I tried my best to ignore the ridiculous amount of cigarette butts in between the seats. I didn’t want to know how long it had been since she cleaned out that ashtray. Hopefully a while because that was a lot to smoke in a short amount of time. I hoped she wasn’t a chain smoker, although she hadn’t smoked once since I first met her. Suddenly I only feared one thing.  _ Oh please, don’t let her smoke in the car. I have avoided secondhand smoke as best I could all these years, please don’t let this girl ruin it for me _ .

“Isn’t she a beauty?” she said, lips stretched over her teeth in a wide grin.

My response was to stare at her. Just stare. No real emotion in my face and she understood, ducking her head in shame.

“I wasn’t expecting company.”

“For the next three years?”

“I know, I know. I’m a pig, but she gets me where I need to go. The garbage has never slowed her down. And it’s usually only me in the car. Well except for Megan, but family doesn’t count.”

The drive was pleasant, I guess. Completely smoke-free which was a bonus.

Normally I didn’t talk much when I was in a vehicle. I’d look out the window and get lost in thought. Winnie wasn’t the silent type. But she was also not the talking type. She was the type, as it were, to sing loudly to the even louder rock music playing on the radio station. Try as she might, she couldn’t hit all the notes, but her voice wasn’t altogether displeasing. There were even a couple of songs I had heard before, but I wasn’t tempted to join Winnie in the enthusiastic singing department. No duets were to happen that day. Besides, I kind of enjoyed listening to her belt.

***

“Um,” I stammered when she asked if I was coming. Winnie had stepped out of the car first, having parked it rather well — she turned out to be a very competent driver — and turned off the engine. Getting out was the logical next step that I didn’t quite want to follow.

There were people everywhere. It was a much bigger campus than mine, and it wasn’t all students from the looks of it. All kinds of people, all walking around, all having eyes and hands and mouths; all for seeing and clapping and shouting. 

I might have been planning this week out since before I conquered my fear of cooties, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be slightly embarrassed about the attention. 

“Can you um,” I whispered and she leaned back into the car to hear me.

“Speak up, princess. Hard to hear, still kinda numb from my music.”

I wasn’t surprised. “Prin- don’t call me,” I sighed, lowering my head. “Look, could you just come over to my side of the car?”

Immediately her lips spread into that ‘too huge for her face’ smirk. “Want me to open your door, princess? I can be all kinds of romantic if you want.”

She winked and I damn near fell out of my seat. “No I- can you please just-”

Winnie laughed, shaking her head but she leaned back out of the car and closed her door. I watched from behind the curls that had fallen into my face as she walked around the front of the car and I hastily threw my door open to keep her from thinking her joke was actually the truth.

“What’s up?” She asked, resting her arms over the top of the car door as she peered over.

I took a moment to compose myself, biting my lower lip. Was I going to do this? Was this really the better alternative to people cheering and drawing attention to the certain color tying us together?

I snatched her right hand with my left, hiding the now shortened string between our palms. You could only see it if you were looking closely at the fingers to which it was tied.

Not looking at her was my main goal. Don’t look to see her mock you or whatever smug reaction she’ll come up with. Just get out of the car, Tam. Don’t look. Don’t even think about it. Keep your head down, close the door, watch her fingers. That lead up her nicely toned arms. She must lift weights at the gym in front of those mirrors making everyone in there jealous of- oh crap.

My eyes had traveled up her frame and her expression was not what I was expecting. There was a faint blush on her cheeks and her eyes were fixed squarely on where our hands were connected.

“Oh,” I said, unable to contain myself. She was the cutest person I’d ever seen in my life. Hands down she won that contest.

Her eyes lifted to meet my own and I was the one blushing all of a sudden. I took a deep breath and talked as fast as I could. “I was nervous about people seeing the string again. I’m not good with big public spectacles, and I thought that maybe….”

She nodded and it was like she had never lost her composure. The blush was gone as if it had never heated her cheeks and she was smirking with only one side of her mouth when she pulled me out of the car and closed the door behind me.

“By the way,” she gripped by fingers as she pulled me in the direction of her dorm and I felt a surge of… something run up my arm. That was a new experience. “If you thought my car was messy, you’re gonna hate my room.”

I groaned inwardly. Moment ruined. Not that a little hand squeeze qualified as a moment but still, ruined.

Much like the ruins of her bedroom.

I gave her credit, however, since it was not the same kind of messy as her car. Hera was filled with discarded garbage and random crap in the backseat, all or most of it useless and belonging in a waste bin. Winnie’s room consisted of scattered clothes (clean or dirty: yet to be determined), CDs of various bands that I’d never heard of, boots, lots of belts, books and musical instruments.

She must have seen me staring at them after she closed the door. “Yeah, I’m one of those weird kids that play the ukulele.”

“Among other things,” I noted as I glanced over the cases. This was a surprise. Guitar I could have called, that was an easy instrument to associate with her. A ukulele, not so much.

“Bass, ukulele, banjo, and that over there is my mum’s mandolin. I borrowed it for a project. Need to give it back to her at some point.”

“Wow.” A banjo. Not what I expected in the slightest.

“Yeah, I like to keep my hands busy. Runs in the family.”

“Oh? Is your mom a musician?” I asked, running my fingers gently over the mandolin sitting on top of her desk.

Winnie had grabbed a bag from under her bed and started throwing clothes from the floor into it. I determined that they were clean, or at least hoped.

“Nah, she only plays music as a hobby. The same goes for me, and my sister - she’s the piano type. Mum’s a hairdresser.”

I stood there blinking, momentarily at a loss. Any assumptions that I had made about Winnie should go straight out the window because none of this was what I expected about her life. A banjo of all things. And now we had something in common. I was fascinated with styling hair, have been styling my own since I was a kid — couldn’t cut it for the life of me — but my YouTube favorites was filled with hair tutorials. Maybe she showed that same interest in her mother’s work.

“She owns a salon now, does pretty good. I never got into it much, other than getting free haircuts and dyes.”

“Oh.”

“You like hair stuff?” She asked from inside her closet before leaning out, dark blue bikini in hand.

“Yeah, I um, look up a lot of stuff for my own hair. I really enjoy doing it.”

“Huh, well I have to bring her mandolin back before the week is up and we should probably meet each other’s families. If you’re okay with it, I could bring you by the salon and you two can chat about hair.”

“Oh yeah, sure that sounds good. I’d like that.” And I would, meeting her mom sounded cool. Her mom sounded cool. There was just the small problem of-

“What about your folks?”

-That.

“They aren’t…” I could feel my airways constricting, “My parents aren’t…” hear the beating of my pulse in my ears, “It’s nothing something…” I closed my eyes to keep my vision from fogging up. “I’m not comfortable talking about it.”

I couldn’t hear what she was doing over the sound of my heart beating, couldn’t see what she was doing because I was too scared to look. I hated that this was still an issue with me, that the mention of them could hurtle me straight into a panic attack, but-

My whole body stiffened when I felt her hands on my arms and then relaxed as the warmth of her fingers reached my skin. I always ran colder than other people, which was why I cuddled in my sleep, seeking out the warmest thing, be it a blanket, stuffed animal, or person.

She didn’t say anything. She stood there, hands on my arms. Not holding me there, I could have easily backed away if I wanted to, but instead I had to resist the urge to move forward into her arms and rest my head on her shoulders. Her presence was comforting, drawing me in. It was hard to tell if it was the string or Winnie that was having this effect on me.

I opened my eyes and found her eyes in my immediate line of sight. She breathed in, eyes widening with intent and I followed suit. She counted to four slowly, quietly, and then she motioned to breath out. I did. We did this until I had blinked away the tears and could breathe normally.

“Thanks.” I was still deciding if I wanted to move forward or back.

She smiled and let her right hand slide down my arm until she laced her fingers with mine, letting the string dangle free. Then she turned away to keep packing but this time she pulled me with her.

Now I finally noticed that she was packing both a bookbag with swim gear, a couple of towels, flip flops and other necessities one would need at a water park - as well as a duffle bag with regular clothes. I say regular clothes not in the sense that the typical mainstream person (or myself) would wear them, they were Fred-regular. Her clothes were fascinating, what with the buckles and fishnet, and I wanted to see them on. Particularly on her. I suddenly wanted her to model for me.

“Are we not going to stay here?”

“Well, I figure your room is cleaner than mine. Also bigger. Why are your dorms so awesome? Plus, you have your own bathroom! I have to use the communal one and share it with all the people on this floor. It sucks.”

“I actually share my bathroom with my neighbour. It’s a joint ensuite.”

“One other person! That’s much worse than sharing with at least twenty.”

I rose my eyebrow and she smirked at me.

“That is, if you’re alright with me staying with you.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, of course you can stay in my dorm. It’s probably better for me to stay there anyway. I’m not that good out of my comfort zone.”

“I noticed.” She gave my hand a little squeeze and my cheeks flushed. It was comforting, strangely enough, to have her know about my vulnerabilities already. I felt as though she would do anything to keep me from feeling uncomfortable again.

“So,” she squeezed my hand again and I let my fingers fall loose so she could finish zipping up her bag. I hadn’t realized just how hard I’d been holding her hand. “All packed. Shall we go get wet?”

Well, she’d do almost anything to prevent it.

***

I laid down on one of the lounge chairs placed around the sand, towel wrapped around my chilled, bare skin as I waited for Winnie to come out of the wave pool. She wanted me to go in with her but it was warmer outside of the pool and it was dry and there was sun beaming down on me, so the string would have to deal with it and stretch. Which it did. Since it had more to do with staying away from the water than her. 

The only good thing about this stupid park so far was that everyone was too distracted by the rides and the water to focus their attention on our string. One lingering glance, a couple shouts of approval, one kid staring in awe. It was easy enough to ignore.

I had my hair pinned up under a hair scarf to keep it dry and manageable for later, but my bathing suit was still damp from the last ride. I was quite happy with it though, considering this was the first time I wore it. A sweetheart sarong one piece, vibrant purple, and I looked fantastic in it. I bought it after convincing myself that I could go swimming at the university pool but that had yet to happen this semester.

“That was awesome!” Winnie shouted as she emerged from the pool, soaking wet and grinning like a Cheshire cat. Of course, I couldn’t look at that grin too long and had to avert my eyes. As I had been doing all day because if I didn’t look away I would probably drool or blush brighter than the string tied to our fingers.

Dark blue was a good color on her, and in the form of a small bikini with far more strings than a bikini necessarily needed; it was doing a number on me. Not to mention the water glistening on her skin and her wet hair tossed over to one side, a much darker shade of purple now. Which was a good look on her. Everything was a good look on her, I was coming to realize. 

“Earth to Tammy.”

My eye twitched and I blinked to see her leaning over me. “Oh please, don’t call me that.”

Winnie smiled apologetically, “Sorry. Any nicknames that are okay, Tamryn?”

I laughed, smiling back at her. “I’m good with Tam.”

Her grin was wicked as she let her eyes roam over my body. “Yeah, I’m good with Tam, too.”

I think the people on the other side of the wave pool heard my jaw hitting the sand.

“You wanna go on another ride, Tam? Or would you like to hit up some place for lunch?” She grabbed her towel before sitting down on the end of the lounge chair and I pulled my feet up to give her more room.

“I um-” was stuck on the blatant flirting she had exhibited so instead I fixated on watching her dry her hair, as though it was _ that _ fascinating. But it was enough of a distraction from where my mind had previously been headed so I managed to choke out a, “yeah, I could eat.”

“Come on then.” She tossed her towel over her shoulder without any care for covering up. She held out her hand as she slid her shades onto her face and I nearly fell off the lounge chair. “I’ll treat you to something greasy and over-priced.”

Did you know someone could look adorable eating a corn dog? Because I certainly didn’t. If anything it should have been obscene. That’s what I thought was usually associated with hotdogs and phallic food products but no, Winnie didn’t eat the corn dog in a way that reminded me of specific sexual acts. Winnie  _ nibbled _ on corn dogs like a small and purple chipmunk. A hardcore chipmunk that I would lose to in a fight but it was the most adorable thing I had ever seen and I’m positive she thought my mind was in the gutter as I stared at her mouth while she ate. I did not care. So cute.

I think I stared at her lips as she talked, too, but that was only because her shades prevented me from seeing her eyes. It was odd how comfortable I already felt with this girl. We talked easily and she made me laugh with food in my mouth. 

“So, how long has your mom had her salon?” I asked, mostly out of the blue. We’d been talking about my science studies and how her sister was attending my university for an English major. She was in her first year, like me, and Winnie expected her to change her mind at least three more times.

“Three years now? I think. Yeah, it was about a year before I started going to university.”

I blinked and that’s when our previous conversation caught up with me. Her sister was younger than her, yet she was in her first year of university. “Wait. Are you- you’ve been in university for two years?”

“Yes.”

I honestly don’t know why I hadn’t guessed that she was older than me. 

Her brows furrowed below the rim of her shades, reading me like a book. “Is it okay if there’s a little age difference? I’m not that much older than you and, to be fair, you have me beat by at least a year in maturity.”

I grinned. It wasn’t that much of a difference. “One year  _ minimum. _ ”

“Hey now, respect your elders.” She nudged my leg with hers, enough to make my stool wobble and I had to clutch the counter and glare at her despite my laughter. “Now, what say you whippersnapper? Want to go on another ride, or would you rather head back to your place for the night?”

The way she said that. The way her lips turned up at one corner of her mouth in a sly grin. She was only flirting, didn’t really mean it, but the implication sent shivers down my spine. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than for her to drive me back to my dorm and follow through with that vague promise. Instead, I twirled the red string that connected us around my finger and smiled because I couldn’t rush things. 

“Let’s go on another ride.”

***

By the time we got off that ride, which turned out to be our last, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds and the autumn chill had returned to the air. As I mentioned before, I ran colder than other people, so we walked back to the car with her small leather jacket thrown over my shoulders and Winnie’s arms holding and rubbing my shoulders and arms to keep my shivering body warm. It didn’t matter than we’d changed back into our clothes and were no longer wet, my cute summer dress was not keeping me warm.

She opened the door for me as I dropped myself into the passenger seat and I smiled through the shivering because she was everything I had not expected from my first visual of her.

Winnie was different and odd and anytime you thought you understood her, she hit you with an unexpected obsession over baby sloths getting a bath or being a chivalrous person who always wanted to hold the door for you. She was all the things I expected too; loud music I couldn’t understand, lots and lots of black and spiky clothes, at least five ashtrays in her dorm room and the combination was dangerous for me.

“Let’s get this heat on,” she said as she slid into the driver’s seat, not taking the time to close her own door before she turned on the engine and adjusted the heat to full blast. Once the door was shut, she shimmied closer to me and resumed her part time job of rubbing my shoulders to increase blood flow.

“There are other things we could do to warm up,” I said. Out loud. Without even thinking about it because apparently I didn’t have a filter when I was this cold and being warmed up by a hot girl who’d been flirting with me all day.

She didn’t look confused or put off or anything. Just kept smiling at me as she said, “True. But we’re waiting until the end of the week, remember? There’s a lot of stuff in your book we haven’t gotten to do yet. I still need to prove myself.”

I almost hated my younger self for starting that book, and my current self for having kept it up all these years and for showing Winnie in the first place. I wasn’t about to abandon everything I’d put into that book, all the hopes and dreams I had, and all the moments I wanted to share with my fated person. But I was only a few inches from the lips I had been staring at all day long and I wish, I wish I could have leaned in and kissed them.

“Warm enough?”

I was thankful she hadn’t said ‘hot’ because I was actually able to smile shyly and nod. I shrunk back into myself and pulled her jacket tighter around me as she settled back into her seat and proceeded to drive the car out of the parking lot.

***

I woke to soft whisper and a hand on my shoulder. My body didn’t resist leaning into the comforting touch but as my consciousness slowly came back into full service mode, I realized my forehead was pressed against the cold window and I was, in fact, uncomfortable.

Winnie was smirking at me when I blinked dumbly at her and yawned.

“We’re here, back at your school. I would have let you sleep and carried you inside all romantic-like to put you to bed, but I can’t exactly get inside without your keys.”

I couldn’t help the tired laugh that tumbled from my lips as I attempted to sit up. Imagining this small, purple haired girl carrying me all the way from the parking lot over to my dorm was indeed laughable. I was sure she’s strong but I wasn’t particularly lightweight. Though, the image of being tucked in with her leaning over me, perhaps kissing my cheek, silenced me.

As soon as my hand reached for my seat belt, Winnie was stepping out of her side of the car and rushing over to mine. She opened the door for me before I could put my hand on the handle. 

I shook my head, blush on my cheeks darkening as I tried to hide the smile creeping onto my lips but she was already returning it with a huge grin. Ducking my head, I exited the vehicle and immediately moved around to the back of the car to retrieve my bag. I think the only reason she let me carry my own bag was the fact that I had to rummage through it as we walked in search of my keys that had disappeared underneath everything else.

It was also a great excuse to not have to look Winnie in the eye because I was suddenly aware that she was spending the night. In my bed. With me. After all that flirting and insinuating we’d done today; and all the daydreaming it led me to do.

“Hey, Tammy. Who’s your friend?”

“It’s Tamryn,” I grumbled on impulse. A month in and my own residence assistant, who lived directly across the hall from me, still refused to stop using that nickname. I thought we could simply walk in and go straight up to my dorm room but I’d forgotten that at this university, after a certain hour of the night, you were required to register all guests coming into the building. This was something I had yet to do.

“Nice jacket,” Sarah remarked, eyeing me up with a grin on her face like she’d caught me doing something inappropriate. I pulled Winnie’s jacket tighter around my body, now protective over it after it had been keeping me warm, and because it belonged to her.

“Is it your friend’s?” 

Winnie beat me to it, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and making sure her hand was clearly displaying the string that dangled between us. “Yeah, it’s mine. But what’s mine is her’s and all that.”

“Oh, you know what,” Sarah’s eyes focused on the string immediately before she flipped through the paperwork on the table that she had set up in the lobby. “I think I received something about you getting tied. I just forgot the paperwork in my room.”

“Right,” I didn’t believe her for a second. “So, do I need to sign her in? Because she’ll be staying here with me for the week.”

“Isn’t that adorable. You two make quite the pair.”

It occurred to me that I had never liked Sarah that much.

“If the school has it on record, you won’t need to sign her in every night. Gives you more time to let your young love blossom.”

“And keeps us from interacting with jealous onlookers. Great system you’ve got.” Winnie winked, grabbing my hand as she pulled me to the staircase. “We’ll do our best with all that blossoming.”

I was laughing by the time we reached my floor. Sarah’s face was priceless. If only I had my phone out to take a picture and keep it forever. 

Winnie released my hand when we got to my door. “That R.A. is a piece of work.”

“And that,” I pointed to the door across the hall, “is her room. I’m sure I’ll have to put up with her talking about you every single day from now on.”

Winnie leaned against the wall as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “I might have to draw something on her whiteboard.” As she rolled her body to slip into the room she added, “In permanent marker.”

I laughed harder, letting the door close behind us. Not that I was condoning vandalism, but Sarah was kind of a jerk.

“How tired are you?” Winnie asked as she plopped herself down in my desk chair.

“Not really? Not after my unexpected nap,” I answered as I stepped into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. My mouth felt chalky after that nap, as short as it was.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure. I have Netflix on my laptop. The password is redstreaks, all one word, lowercase. And there are some chips on the shelf.”

I didn’t hear any word back from her but I imagined she picked up my laptop and started searching on Netflix. Since the search for a movie often took longer than the movie itself. I was a little surprised at how readily I gave over my password but it wasn’t as though she could find any embarrassing things on there, and I also trusted her not to intentionally snoop through my computer. 

Once I changed into my pajamas, I returned to my room to find her at the same place at my desk with my laptop in front of her. Only now she was wearing a black tank, a pair of boxer shorts, and no bra. Netflix was open but it was on the homepage and the bag of chips were open in her lap.

“What kind of movies do you like? Other than romcoms and Jim Henson?” she asked, as if she hadn’t been waiting to ask me that for several minutes.

I shrugged, sitting on my bed. “I like pretty much anything.”

“Do you like horror?”

Of course she liked horror films. “Sometimes. It depends.”

“Have you seen Devil’s Pass? Good quality found footage, nice twists, not that scary but if you do get scared, I’ll hold you, don’t worry.”

“Cute,” I rolled my eyes wanting to say ‘my hero’ in the snarkiest voice. Instead I settled on “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

***   
  


“Holy crap!” I screamed, jumping closer to Winnie on the bed. She put her arm around me, tugging me closer, and we kept watching the fascinating — and somewhat terrifying — ending to a rather good film without addressing that it was, in fact, scaring me a little bit.

I sighed when the credits started rolling and leaned into her body, basically collapsing in her lap.

“Did you like it, then?”

I turned over, looking up at her, “Yeah. It was really cool. When you said ‘found footage’ I got worried. I’ve never been a fan of shaky cam, gives me a headache, and I think it’s cheap. But that wasn’t cheap or shaky, which makes sense if the characters in the movie are supposed to be professionals.”

As we talked more about the film — what we liked, what we thought could be improved — she asked to play with my hair and started twirling my curls around on her fingers. I relaxed into her touch as she told me about the true events the film was based on. I didn’t like people touching my hair. Never have. Someone always wanted to touch it as though it was their right to, simply because they’re intrigued by the shape and style of black hair. Winnie, however, was becoming an exception to everything. 

“Why redstreaks?” she asked after telling me another story about Dyatlov Pass. Her gaze shifted from my hair to my face. “Now, redstrings I would understand. I probably would’ve been able to hack your laptop in less than five minutes were that the case.”

I laughed, shaking my head, “I’ve been wanting red streaks in my hair for a while. But I don’t want to risk anything with bleach. If my hair were to break off, I would definitely cry. My hair does  _ not _ grow fast.”

“Ah, red would be hot. I mean, you’re already drop dead gorgeous, but the red,” she whistled to emphasis her point and I reached up to push her shoulder. Getting used to this kind of attention was certainly a challenge but I wasn’t going to stop her.

I yawned before we could tease each other further and she stroked my hair. “Maybe we should head to bed?”

I stretched, putting myself further into her lap. “We’re already in bed.”

“Oh no, you are not trapping me in this position all night. At least let me lie down.”

And because I’m a nice person, I actually got up. “Fine, but only because I need to brush my teeth.”

We took turns in the bathroom and when she was finished, she shut off the light and crawled into bed next to me. This time I didn’t hesitate to cuddle up with her and she welcomed me into her arms. Listening to her breathe as her chest rose and fell put me to sleep before my mind could even think of scaring me with overactive thoughts from the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, I'd love to hear any feedback anyone has on this story (it's been hiding away for many years so I'm excited to put it out into the world again).
> 
> Follow me on other social media: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/arraleblanc) [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/arraleblanc/)
> 
> A new chapter will be up next Sunday! Thanks for reading!


	3. Day Three

“I want to kiss you,” I said as I leaned closer, pressing her up against the wooden fences that kept us on the trail and out of the marshland.

“You want to wait until the week is over,” she insisted, tilting her head away from me because she knew this was the goal of my book. Knew that we were going for a walk in Waterfowl Park because it was an activity listed in my book. Everything came down to the precious Red Week book I had worked so hard on. The collection of various dreams and aspirations I had for this fated week in my life. It was so important to me, it dictated everything I wanted to do, and I found myself picking it up and throwing it into the marsh. I heard it land with a satisfying splash and grinned at Winnie as I moved in to press my lips onto hers.

Her quiet laugh is what woke me up and I found myself with my lips smooshed against her shoulder when I opened my eyes.

“Some dream you’re having,” she smirked down at me with a fondness in her eyes that had me blushing and rolling off her immediately.

I raised the back of my hand to my lips and mumbled, “M’sorry,” as I wiped my lips.

She kept grinning happily at me, as though she knew exactly what I had been dreaming about. Which couldn’t have been possible unless-

“Oh no, was I talking in my sleep?”

“No.”

I sighed, relief flooding over me.

“But you were muttering and cooing, it was adorable.”

I groaned, face planting into my pillow. Her hand was rubbing my back moments after.

“Aw, come on. It was sweet.” She draped her arm over my back as she snuggled up close to me, nuzzling the back of my neck. I shivered when I felt her lips brush my skin. “So, what do you want to do today?”

Throwing my Red Week book out the window and spending the day in bed was suddenly the most tempting thought I had ever had in my life, but I loved that book. I would never throw it out.

“Yesterday we did something I wanted to do. Today you should pick something out of your book. I will do whatever your heart desires.”

My laughter was muffled by my pillow. Punk, hardcore, and extra cheesy. How was this girl real?

Honestly, laying in bed with her snuggled close to me seemed to be a viable option. Instead of falling back asleep, however, I waved my hand to gesture at my desk. Winnie felt when I moved and lifted herself off my shoulder. She chuckled, patting my back before slipping off the bed and retrieving my book. 

I rolled over onto my side in the time that it took her to step across the room and fling herself back on the bed with a bit of a bounce. She sat cross legged next to me and opened the book on her lap.

“Okay,” she announced, grabbing the tab of the blue divider and turning to the Event section of my well organized book (even though she landed on the summer events section because of course I had separated the events by season). “You choose something for us to do from this beauty, while I go outside and have a smoke.”

She must have seen the look on my face — something between surprise and disgust — because I had honestly forgotten she was a smoker after our smoke-free day yesterday. 

“I know. My terrible habit makes you want to cut the string yourself, but I haven’t had a cigarette in a day, and I refuse to quit cold turkey.” Winnie patted my leg as she got up and retrieved some clothes from her bag on her way to the bathroom. From behind the closed door she called, “I promise to come back with lots of gum and I’ll use whatever flowery spray of yours you want on me.”

She must have seen my collection of body sprays and perfumes in the bathroom - though how could she miss it. When we first moved in my suitemate, Jasmine Desai, left me notes on the bathroom mirror complimenting me on all the gorgeous perfumes and assured me she wouldn’t steal them or use them without permission. Since then I’ve let Jazz use a good portion of them - except my two favorites.

I sighed, but smiled at the idea of spritzing perfume on her while she pouted unhappily the entire time. “I guess I can deal with that.”

Dressed in nothing but a lace black bra and a  _ really _ tight pair of black pants, Winnie emerged from the bathroom and walked over with an outstretched hand. I shook it, trying not to blush or look too intently at her bare skin. 

“It’s a deal.” She grinned through her purple hair that was covering one side of her face. As much as I loved how gravity-defying her hair had been when we first met, I adored how her mohawk looked all loose and flat, flopping to one side of her head. I wondered if she would leave it that way all Red Week or if she would commandeer my bathroom to gel and spray her hair into its upright position.

She slipped on a loose fitted, low hanging tank top with some sort of band logo on the front, grabbed her wallet and shoved it in her back pocket. I couldn’t fathom how she managed to find room for it. She bid me farewell and grabbed my keys from the desk, telling me she’d return shortly.

“There’s a convenience store across the street that sells gum!” I said, grinning as I flung myself back onto my bed with a sigh once the door was closed. I always knew Red Week would feel magical but the thought had nothing on the actual feeling.

Before I could do my part in our plans for that morning, there was a knock on my bathroom door. I laughed at the shyness yet urgency of the knock. Soft like she didn’t want to interrupt yet several in a row and without much pause between them.

“Come in, Jazz.”

The door opened without hesitation and Jasmine stepped into my room, eyes scanning the room no doubt looking for Winnie and also fixating on the bit of mess in my room because Winnie’s things were scattered about my floor and next to my desk. “So….”

Rolling my eyes, I sat up on the bed and gestured for her to sit down. Which she did with a good deal of eagerness. “You’ve heard then?”

“Oh yes!” she nearly squealed. “It’s so cute! Your first year of university! What are they like? Were they in one of your classes? Did you need a pencil and they handed you one and that’s when the string appeared? No wait, that’s classic high school scenarios.” She snapped her fingers at a new idea, barely breathing between sentences. “Passing the latest assignments around the room and then poof string? Handing you the cereal in Meal Hall? Had the mailbox next to yours and you checked your mail at the same time? Or was it-”

“Oh my gosh, Jazz! Calm yourself!” I laughed. “I didn’t realize you were so into Red Week.”

She scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “I’m not really. Not the whole week or whatever, just the meetings. I think the meetings and how your string appears as you pull away from each other is the cutest thing. The scenarios are endless.”

“And I’m sure if I let you keep going you would never stop.”

She smirked and I knew I was right. With a sigh I admitted, “We met across the quad.”

“Across the quad? Like on opposite sides?”

“Yeah, I went to go back inside because I forgot my textbook and the string pulled me at me from outside of Meal Hall.”

“Wow! A long string! Those are adorable! Getting tied and having to follow the string all the way over to someone far away!”

I shook my head, laughing again. It was crazy that I lived next to this girl, shared her bathroom with her, and even hung out with her in Meal Hall or at dorm events, but I had never known she was passionate about red string meetings.

“So, what are they like?”

The smile on my face, combined with the probable blush I got whenever I think of Winnie, must have given it all away because she was smiling even wider and smacked me on the knee. “Oh you sweet little thing, you’ve totally fallen for them already!”

“I-” was about to argue but honestly didn’t know if that was something I could protest. I certainly wasn’t put off from Winnie or wanting to get away from her. It was quite the opposite. “I really like her.”

This time Jasmine did squeal, rather loudly, and she flailed her limbs a bit too. “Oh! I am so happy for you! What dorm does she live in? What’s her major? What’s she look like? Does she play any sports? What did she think about your Red Week book?”

“She doesn’t go here actually,” I said quickly when she finally took a breath, cutting her off before she could barrel ahead with an eternity of questions. “She was here visiting her sister - was waiting for her outside of Meal Hall when the string pulled. She’s going to school at Université de Moncton. What else? I can’t remember any of those rapid fire questions.”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta get as many in as I can before she comes back. Where is she anyway? She can’t be far?”

“She’s outside having a- she went to Sassy’s to pick up some snacks.”

“Oh that’s right, the string can stretch far as long as you two aren’t trying to get away from each other.”

“I think so, we’ve got a meeting with the counselor about all the details on Thursday.”

Jasmine frowned. “Today’s Thursday.”

I groaned, looking at the calendar to confirm. She was right. We were already on our third day together. “No! I wanted to lay in bed and watch movies today.”

“And cuddle? And hold each other? And be all cutesy watching cheesy romance films? Oh, you sicken me,” she said with a playful smile, and I was half tempted to push her off the bed.

“Probably not  _ all  _ of that.” Because Winnie mentioned she was picky about romcoms, didn’t care much for them unless they were exceptionally good and unique for the genre. “But yes, that’s pretty much exactly what I wanted to do.”

“Maybe afterwards? What time is the appointment?”

“Ten thirty.”

“Well, you’ve got twenty minutes.”

“What?” I shouted, glancing at the clock hanging on my wall as I scrambled out of bed. “No! This is the worst morning!”

“Is it really?” Jasmine grinned despite my panic. “You seemed pretty ‘cat that got the cream’ when I walked in.”

I couldn’t help smiling at that, even as I dug frantically through my closet for some of my soft dresses—perfect for cuddling—and anything quick that would match. If I could get dressed and ready fast enough, I could catch Winnie before she finished her cigarette and went to the convenience store. Oh, right.

“Jazz, do you have any gum?”

***

“Tamryn what-”

“No time for questions, have to go now. Please put your cigarette out and put this in your mouth.” I grabbed her arm without stopping in my fast pace that would definitely get us to the counselor’s office on time for our meeting. That was if Winnie could keep up.

She didn’t hesitate, thankfully. She dropped her cigarette in front of her and stomped on it as she matched her pace to mine, then took the pack of gum from my hand and threw a piece into her mouth. I was impressed. 

“I assume there’s a reason you’re walking like your heels are on fire? Nice heels by the way.”

“Thanks. I’m never late.”

“Sounds fair. What are we straining ourselves to get to on time? Got an exciting event lined up?”

“We have an appointment with the string assistant guy, counselor.”

“Hold up.”

Winnie actually dug her heels into the pavement of the student paths on campus and made me stop along with her, despite my best efforts to keep pulling her along.

“Why do we need to go to a meeting? We’re already informed about Red Week and the string and how everything words. It’s the third day already, we shouldn’t-”

“It’s protocol. Plus I-”

“Have it written in the book?”

“No, actually. It’s not. But I would like to hear what he has to say. He’s sort of an expert on the subject, he’ll know things that I don’t, and he might have some good advice for us.”

Winnie sighed, moving with me when I tugged on her wrist and we started walking toward the student center at a mildly slower pace than before.

“I don’t see why we would need it. We’ve adjusted to each other well, we’re spending time getting to know each other, and you’re already enough of an expert on the subject. I bet he hasn’t created a four hundred page book about Red Week.”

I tried my hardest to hold back the smile. This was not the time for flattery. It was the time for walking because at this rate we were going to be at least five minutes late. Fifteen minutes late by my standards.

***

“Good morning, Miss Sealy, Miss Yung. You can call me Terrence.” The counselor shook our hands as we walked into his office and gestured for us to sit down in the two chairs provided. “I’m sorry we couldn’t fit you two in until your third day of being tied. In the early months of university there are a lot of people requesting meetings on this subject.”

“That’s alright, we were doing fine on our own anyway.”

I nudged Winnie in the arm and shot her a disapproving look, causing her to sigh and roll her eyes.

Terrence didn’t seem too fazed he simply smiled as he looked between us. “Let’s get started. Since it’s the third day, I assume you two are planning on staying together for the week? Most students stay together for the time off anyway.”

“Is it part of your job to reduce Red Week to a method of skipping class?”

“Winnie!”

“No, no. I shouldn’t have said that. I meant no disrespect. Working at a university, however, has changed my outlook on why certain people remain tied even when they don’t appear to enjoy the company of their partner. I apologize.”

Winnie scoffed but shrugged nonetheless. I was at a loss. I had never seen Winnie be this rude to someone before. Sure she was sarcastic and a little bristly the first time we met, but she warmed up relatively fast and her sarcasm quickly became part of her charm. But this was different.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, couples that have been tied are granted one week free of responsibility before you break the string. Whether you stay together after the string is broken is up to the both of you. So, let’s talk about how your relationship is coming along. Have you two had any fights or disagreements?” 

“Nope, we’re getting along just fine. Next question.”

I blinked at Winnie but the counselor took it in stride.

“That’s good to hear. Have there been any problems with living arrangements? The school board has stated that any paired students have access to their partner’s dorm as long as it’s been negotiated. And several hotels in the area offer discounts to tied students.”

“All sorted. Next.”

“Any problems at all?”

I stopped gaping at Winnie to glance back at Terrence who was looking straight at me. That question was most definitely aimed at me.

“N-no. There haven’t been any problems.”

He nodded. “That’s good. Now, let’s go over the basics of the string and-”

“Is that really necessary? We’ve pretty much got it down by now and we’ve heard the basics before. No gender or personality preferences, doesn’t have a physical form except to connect us, can be long but shortens when we’re avoiding each other, spend time together, physical contact enhances the bond, anything I’m missing?”

Terrence’s eyes darted between us, sharing a significant glance with me as I smiled apologetically. This wasn’t how I expected this meeting to go. I thought we could be open and share ideas, have an actual discussion, but Winnie wasn’t allowing any of that. 

“Good to see two young people as informed about the string as you are. I’m sorry to have taken up time during your week together, but these are standard procedure. I’ll make sure all the paperwork goes smoothly. If you have any questions you’re welcome to come back to see me and I’ll give you a few pamphlets for you to consult.” 

“Thanks Doc,” Winnie said, already out of her seat and grabbing the papers from his hand before heading to the door.

“I’d like a moment to speak to Miss Sealy alone,” Terrence spoke up, making her pause at the door when I had only just risen from my seat. “If that’s alright with you.”

I nodded, turning to Winnie to see that she was ready to object. “It’s okay, Winnie. I’ll only be a second.”

With a nod, she left the room and I immediately turned back to our counselor.

“I am so sorry! She’s not usually like that.”

“It’s quite alright. No need to apologize. Not everyone is required to discuss these things with a counselor. But I wanted to know how  _ you _ are doing this week. Are you comfortable with this match?”

“What?” And suddenly I became aware that he was worried about me. “No, I’m fine. Like I said she’s not normally like that. I’m not sure what happened or why she was behaving like that. She’s actually really sweet.”

He nodded, understanding immediately, or at least I hoped he understood. It was a terrible feeling, having someone think that you were in an unhappy relationship. I couldn’t even fathom how I would have reacted if what he assumed was happening was true. What if I had met someone who was aggressive and didn’t actually like me? Someone controlling and abusive? Winnie was none of those things but where had this hostility come from?

“I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

I smiled weakly. “Thank you. I think I just need to talk to Winnie right now.”

Terrence wished me the best of luck before dismissing me from his office, handing me my own packet of pamphlets.

I found Winnie at the end of the long red string all the way outside of the student center, smoking next to the tree that was out front. She stubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of her boot when she saw me on the steps and reached into her pocket for the package of gum.

“So,” she said, chewing with a grin, the same playful and slightly predatory grin she’d been giving me for days, as though nothing had happened. “What did you have in mind for today?”

I gaped at her, blanking on what to say so instead I kept walking past her. She followed immediately, keeping up with me as I crossed the road and stalked back across campus toward my dorm.

“Woah, Tam. What’s the rush this time?” I felt her tugging on the string but that didn’t stop me from walking away from her. I had been ready to talk to her about the meeting but she shrugged it off like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t embarrassed me and made the counselor think awful things about her and our relationship. The least she could do was apologize or explain to me, and instead she ignored it entirely. I was furious. 

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Winifred,” I growled, yanking my hand. “And stop tugging on the string!”

“I’m not! Would you slow down please? What- ah fuck!”

I was pulled backwards and landed hard on my butt on the pavement right outside the new theatre center. Before I could yell at Winnie for pulling me down, I glanced over my shoulder to see that she had fallen as well. She was laying on her front, having been pulled forward and our hands were pressed closely together, the string wrapped around our fingers now touching with barely any visible amount of string between them.

I had been trying to get away from her. I should have known better.

I groaned as I rubbed my butt with my opposite hand and adjusted my dress.

“Are you okay?” Winnie asked as she sat up and scooted closer to me, rubbing her arm that had been yanked rather hard, I imagined.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled, moving to stand up but her other hand reached out and gently rested on my shoulder. I let her keep me sitting, thankful that classes were currently in session right now so there weren’t a lot of people walking around campus to see us like this.

“I panicked,” she explained, eyes averted. “I’m sorry, Tamryn. That was awful of me to do with you there, but I hate therapists. I hate people dictating to me how I should live my life and how I should do things. I can’t take them seriously anymore. They make me uncomfortable to the point where I turn into a total ass. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset about that.” She raised her eyebrow, clearly not buying it, and I sighed. “Okay, I am. I really am. But I wasn’t angry until you decided to completely ignore what happened. I wanted to talk to you about it but- he thought you were- that I’d ended up tied to someone who didn’t care about my feelings and treated me badly. And I know you’re not like that, I know that. But having someone else think that, someone who’s an expert, it demeans everything we’ve been through and how I feel about you. So yeah, I’m upset about how you behaved in there, but I’m angry that you didn’t talk to me about it.”

She worried at her bottom lip as I started to breathe again. I didn’t often get worked up about things and I certainly didn’t get this angry or raise my voice. I was already regretting everything I said, or at least  _ how _ I said it. If she was uncomfortable doing this then I shouldn’t be angry at her, but I wished she had explained beforehand instead of making up excuses as to why we shouldn’t go see him. I was in such a rush. I should have slowed down and listened to her.

Winnie turned her wrist and let her fingers slip between mine, squeezing my hand gently. 

“I should have stopped you before the appointment. I went along with it because you were in a rush and I didn’t want- I should’ve told you. I’ve met with therapists and different school counselors before, also legal counseling when I was a kid. It was always me, mom and my little sister and we weren’t exactly great on the money front. Sometimes it got bad. People didn’t think that my mother was suitable to raise us on her own after my father left. Someone whose fated partner decided to leave them after years… there’s so much stigma. Child services would visit a lot. They would interview me alone because my sister was too young at the time and it made me feel horrible. Judged by these people who came into our life to determine if  _ we _ were living up to  _ their  _ standards. I hated it.” 

Winnie was scowling as she admitted these things to me. I hadn’t thought about her past this extensively. Considering my own life, I should not have assumed she had the happiest of upbringings. 

“Then in school, I was always getting into trouble. Whether it be fights or not doing my assignments or speaking out in class. The guidance counselor there was useless. She never tried to see what I was going through, she just blamed my ‘attitude problem’ and told me detention was the discipline I needed. There was no way that woman had a proper degree to counsel youth. Ever since then, I haven’t exactly been able to be  _ civil _ with people who make it their job to access other people’s lives.”

I squeezed her hand, immediately and without judgement. I wasn’t going to argue about her opinion of therapists and counselors, or say that they weren’t all terrible, that most were quite qualified and helpful in their careers. That she should definitely seek out proper counseling when she was ready to face her trauma. As much as I wanted to undo the stigma of therapy, that wasn’t my place and certainly not what she needed right now. 

Reaching out with my opposite hand, I brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sure your mom was doing the best that she could do. There was no need to put a child through all that stress. I won’t drag you back there, I promise. You can tell me anytime if something makes you uncomfortable. I won’t judge you.”

She nodded, “I’ll definitely tell you next time. Save us the fall.”

I laughed, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand. “With the string this short, our options are limited. But I’ve got a few things in my book I’m sure we could do.”

Winnie snorted, shaking her head as she tugged me up off the ground, helping to steady me. It was a little difficult in a dress, heels and with my hand attached to another person’s hand, but we managed. She grinned as she picked a leaf off the bottom of my dress, then rolled the fabric between her finger and thumb. “I think you’ve picked the perfect outfit for cuddling.”

“And hand holding. Two optimum bonding experiences for Red Week. Physical contact is important, you know.”

“I would have never guessed,” she grinned, hip checking me gently as we started walking, this time at a leisurely pace. 

***

I was half asleep when a finger jabbed into my side. I groaned, rolling my body over to face the source of the poking and opened my eyes to see that Winnie was laying on her side, arm over a pillow to prop up her head as she stared down at me. 

“Wha?”

Her soft smile widened. “You missed half the movie.’

I blinked at her before rolling my head back over to see the credits scrolling on the laptop screen. We’d pulled my desk chair over to the side of the bed, setting the laptop on it so we wouldn’t lose any space on the bed - or accidentally knock the computer on the floor.

“Is yer fault,” I mumbled, bringing my hand up to cover a yawn. “Yer the one who s’ggested we lie down after the third movie.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t have enough pillows to turn your bed into a couch. And it was after the second movie, you missed most of the third.”

“I don’t like a lot of pillows.”

“You falling asleep again?”

“Nah,” I said, even though I was closing my eyes and nuzzling into the pillow.

“I think you’re falling asleep.”

“I think your standards for the average pillow count is too high.”

“ _ I  _ have enough pillows to turn  _ my _ bed into a makeshift couch.”

“Are you referring to that surface covered in enough clothes to make a whole ‘nother mattress?”

“Hey now! You leave my mess out of this,” she threatened, but her voice was soft.

“Bring it.” I grinned and snuggled closer to her.

Winnie snorted, laughing a little to herself as I started to drift off slowly. A few moments later I felt her lean over me, chest pressing against my abdomen and waking me enough to understand what was happening. She didn’t put her full weight on me but it was strange that I wasn’t flustered by this intimate arrangement. It felt almost natural, her casually leaning over me to access my computer - or so I figured because soon the soft light beaming onto my eyelids fell into darkness. She closed the laptop so quietly I hadn’t heard it and then she was moving back to her side of the bed. Winnie laid back down far enough that her body wasn’t touching him.

I sighed into the pillow, missing the weight of her.

As I started dozing off again, I felt her hand wrap around my forearm, pulling my arm toward her body. The bed dipped as she did this and I peeked to see that she was now laying on her back, my arm over her stomach.

She rolled her head to the side, smirking. “Close your eyes.”

Naturally I opened my eyes wider, brow raised questioningly.

“Close them.”

I rolled them first, exhaling a small laugh before complying. Of course I jumped when I felt her finger trace my forearm and almost opened my eyes again but Winnie insisted that I keep them shut.

“You have to guess what I’m writing.”

“Oh, that’s adorable.”

“That’s not what I wrote.”

I laughed. “No, you wrote ‘string.’ I just think you’re being cute right now with this game.”

Her finger swept over my arm again and I followed the moment, tracking the letters she was spelling out. I smirked when I figured it out. “Hungry, then?”

“We’ve been in your room all afternoon and have only eaten the wraps that were in your mini-fridge. Supper would be nice.”

“Okay,” I groaned and rolled over onto my back, intending to get up but instead I sighed and settled back in.

“Tamryn, don’t do this to my poor stomach. I broke out a cute spelling game to keep you awake, don’t fall back to sleep now.”

“Meal Hall will let you in without a card since you’re tied to me. That whole Red Week perks things means I don’t lose out on my guest passes. You get in for free.”

“Yeah, but you should come with me and get something to eat too. You can’t lay in bed all day. It’s nearly six o’clock and if you keep sleeping you’ll be up all night - and not for the good reasons either.”

That got my attention. “I’m sure you have a long list of good reasons to keep me up at night.”

“Oh, I do.”

Even with my eyes closed, I could  _ feel _ her gaze on my body. The same feeling I got at the water park when she looked me over.

“But right now, we should get up and maybe go out for dinner. Dress up fancy like in your book.”

This time I opened my eyes. “You have fancy clothes?”

The mischievous smirk that spread over her lips had me wide awake and intrigued. 

“Do I ever.”

***

To say I was nervous was an understatement, which should have been ridiculous at this point. We were on our third day together, we had already been on a date, we snuggled while watching movies, we’d slept together in my bed. I shouldn’t have been nervous about going on a fancy date with this girl. Except I was.

Jazz was at Meal Hall when we finally crawled out of my bed and I texted her, asking if Winnie would be able to use her room to change in because she wanted her outfit to be a surprise. Between the texts about how cute we were and demands for pictures, Jazz gave us permission and told me to text her when she was done so she wouldn’t barge in on her. Thankfully Jazz never locked the bathroom door on her side — which was quite flattering that she trusted me after only a month of sharing a bathroom with me — and Winnie took her bag over to Jazz’s room, leaving me to stand in front of my closet, absolutely lost.

What the hell would I wear?

It wasn’t that I had a lack of fancy dresses. No, I had plenty of dresses. Most of them were from thrift shops but you can find some good quality dresses at those places. The selection, however, did not make it any easier to narrow it down to the perfect fancy dress. My Red Week book could be consulted, I had selections from my current wardrobe listed in the formal wear section and all those dresses looked fabulous on me. But what if they were too formal? What if they weren’t stylish enough or they were too boring and common? I had no idea what Winnie would prefer, what would make her jaw drop, what would make her want to-

Oh. 

So it seemed my mind was more concerned with the question: “which dress would make her want to undress me?”

It’s only day three, Tamryn. Focus!

Although, I had done my research. I knew what would break the string and what wouldn’t break the string. Kissing broke the string yes, but only lip touching kisses. Kisses to the forehead, hair, hands, cheeks, that was not a string-breaking kiss. Nor were kisses to other parts of the body that may or may not be erogenous zones. Many tied couples could have sex without breaking the string as long as their lips didn’t touch. But did I really want our first time together to be absent of lip touching kisses? Those long, passionate kisses that made women melt in the movies? Those desperate “I need you now” kisses? Those lazy and tender kisses that were slow and deliberate?

I wanted many kisses.

My fingers skimmed over the fabric of the dresses hanging up in my closet. I had two dresses with rather revealing slits up the sides and one sweetheart dress that wasn’t too revealing but was still sexy - and soft. I would save the other two dresses for dates when I wanted Winnie to be truly tempted, and to act on those temptations. 

My goal of the evening focused down to one thing: look sexy but not sexy enough to lead to pre-kissing sex. Hence the gold sweetheart dress with a black paisley pattern and matching gold strappy heels. The stiletto may be going overboard on the sex appeal, but I think it was in the safer temptation zone, right on the line; the mesh neckline probably held it back just enough. 

A knock on the bathroom door signalled that Winnie was finished in the bathroom and after Jazz’s door audibly shut, I proceeded into the bathroom to do my hair and makeup. Trying to do my own makeup while distracted by the thought of what Winnie might look like right now, how she may have styled her differently, what she was wearing, I was going crazy imagining what she looked like ‘all made up.’ My own nerves about what she would think of me weren’t helping the situation either. I swear if I didn’t already have such a steady hand my plum lipstick would have been all over my face.

I spent far too long playing with my hair, gelling down stray pieces, repinning my ponytail until it was just right. Eventually I sighed, reluctant but I couldn’t avoid this date forever. Leaving Winnie in Jazz’s room for the rest of Red Week wasn’t exactly an option, especially since the string would try to pull us together and press us up against either side of the door. So I knocked, letting Winnie know that I was finished and I quickly returned to my room to slip on my heels. 

When Winnie returned to my room through the bathroom, I was standing next to my desk, leaning on it so my legs would stop shaking and I was glad I had been holding onto something. If my life were a movie, this would have been the ‘time stopped because she was so gorgeous’ moment.

Of course she was wearing a hollow out dress. Of course she would choose the most revealing dress when I was worried about being ‘too sexy to resist.’ Winnie was absolutely irresistible. 

She was smirking as she entered the room and spun, giving me the whole view of her outfit and making my eyes widen even more. The dress was solid black,  _ tight  _ on her body, and short. Despite the thick straps it was low in the front with a cut out under her chest and two cutouts on either side that met in the middle of her back at the zipper, making the dress mostly backless. Winnie had replaced her boots with stiletto heeled ankle boots that had more buckles than I could count and they were doing  _ wonderful  _ things for her legs. 

When my eyes finally made their way up to her face, I realized why she hadn’t made a witty remark about ‘eyes up here’ or anything else that would playfully mock me for staring. She was doing the exact same thing with my dress, my legs, my body. I bit my lip and distracted myself from her gaze by studying the height and volume of her purple mohawk. Not a single strand was falling down on the shaved sides. But it was her red matte lipstick that drew me back to my previous thoughts of kissing. 

I swear I almost started shaking, nerves rattling my body, but then our eyes met and we started laughing. The tension slowly faded from the air and her smile, the glee in her eyes, made me relax.

“Wow,” she sounded as if she were out of breath, sort of exactly how I felt.

“Same to you. Wow, I mean, that dress. I just- wow! You are hot!”

She laughed softly, a grin spreading across her lips and then she stopped, holding my eyes and whispered, “You’re stunning.”

If I hadn’t been blushing already, I certainly was now. “You’re seriously doing all kinds of things to my mind with that dress.”

Her grin was positively wicked now as her eyes swept over me once more. “I can say the same about you.”

Well there went my plans of avoiding being ‘too sexy.’ It seemed Winnie had made that her goal, wanting to see my brain completely overload and make animated steam rise out of my ears. My plan to wait four more days until we could break the string were looking less appealing by the minute.

***

“So your mom kicked them out of the salon?” I was smiling wide as I asked her this question, completely astonished and in awe at how incredible her mother was.

“Yup! Plastic rollers still in her hair. She said she would rather buy new curlers than waste her time taking them out and listening to another minute of that woman insult and boss around her staff.”

“I love your mom!”

“Some people think they’re so entitled and my mom will not tolerate it anymore. I think you two are going to get along well. Maybe we should drive to the salon this weekend? She’s been texting me so much these past few days, along with my sister. They really want to meet you.”

I took this opportunity to shovel another spoonful of shrimp and rosé sauce pasta into my mouth. 

“Come on, Tamryn. You’ll love them!” She knew me too well at this point and I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. “Well, maybe not my sister. She can get a little,” Winnie made a face, “but my mom will fawn over you. Plus you both love hair stuff! Oh, she could put a red streak in your hair like you’ve been wanting. That’d be hot.”

I nearly choked on my pasta making Winnie laugh but she held out her hand in concern. I waved her off, signalling that I was fine. “Does your mom know about black hair care?”

“I dunno? Maybe? I’ll text her and ask.”

I nodded and watched as Winnie pulled out her cellphone, quickly typing off a message to her mother.

“So, what else don’t I know about you?”

That wasn’t a loaded question or anything.

“Other than you’re a science major who defies all stereotypes.”

“You’re pretty unconventional yourself.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Looking at you, I expected someone hard. Someone with an attitude, someone scary. But you’re sweet and attentive. Very chivalrous.”

Winnie snorted, lifting her glass and taking a drink. She had wanted to order a pitcher of sangria to split between us but I was still eighteen and wouldn’t turn nineteen for another couple months. So she got a glass of wine—I was honestly expecting beer—and I had iced tea. 

“We’ll have to go out for a drink on your birthday. If you want to that is.”

“I might. I’d like to give alcohol a try.”

“You’ve never drank?”

I shrugged. Alcohol had never been something I cared too much to try. The idea of underage drinking was unsettling to me, as was the idea of losing control of your inhibitions. I enjoyed telling myself what my limits were and not going over them. They were in place for a reason.

“Well then, I’ll pick out some nice drinks for you to sample. Nothing too strong, wouldn’t want to have to carry you back home and take care of you, give you water, hold your hair.”

My eyes narrowed. “Then why do you have a smile on your face?”

It was Winnie’s turn to shrug. “It wouldn’t be ideal - for you. You’d feel awful and have a terrible time in the morning if you get hangovers. But the whole taking care of you thing, nothing bad about that.”

Honestly I might as well be in permanent blush-mode when I was around Winnie. This was getting ridiculous. Just when I thought she’d already reached her charming quota. Apparently she didn’t have one. Unlimited chivalry, like some Arthurian knight. With bright hair. And nice legs.

“Which is why I’m going to take care of this bill,” Winnie announced despite my protests and sipped the last of her wine. “And take you home so I can cuddle you all evening.”

I certainly wasn’t complaining about the chivalry overload because that sounded perfect.

“Maybe if I snuggle you hard enough it’ll prevent you from starfishing and kicking me off the bed,” she added with a mischievous grin.

This woman had to be stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, I'd love to hear any feedback anyone has on this story (it's been hiding away for many years so I'm excited to put it out into the world again).
> 
> Follow me on other social media: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/arraleblanc) [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/arraleblanc/)
> 
> A new chapter will be up next Sunday! Thanks for reading!


	4. Day Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there's a brief discussion of death and grief, loss of loved ones in this chapter. Very short and not detailed but wanted to give everyone a heads up.

Somehow I woke up securely in her arms. Very impressive. Winnie’s body was half on top of mine from how I’d been rolling over in my sleep, taking her with me apparently, and one of her legs was hooked around mine to hold onto me. Considering my other leg was dangling off the bed, it was a good call on her part. Otherwise I might have woken up on the floor.

I shifted onto my back, careful not to stir her as I gently manipulated her limbs so they weren’t holding me hostage any longer. Once free, I moved onto my side and stared down at her sleeping face. I had never understood the appeal of watching your lover while they slept—what’s so romantic about sleeping?—but she was adorable. Eyes closed, breathing even, lips moving in aborted movements - like she might mutter something in her sleep, something sentimental, something that would make my heart stop and I’d be done for. Truth be told, I already was.

A smile tugged at my lips as I reached up and took my silk scarf off, shaking my hair out. I had no plans for going back to sleep at this point. 

Another thing to note, I realized as I turned my attention back to Winnie, was that she was laying there without any protective covering against monsters in the night. I’d stolen the sheets once again. Apparently my skills at being a blanket hog weren’t hindered by her clinging to me the entire night.

“Mm,” Winnie murmured as she woke, burying her face deeper into the pillow before peeking through one eye to see what I was up to. She gazed up at me and raised her eyebrow, which was hilarious considering her eyes weren’t fully open yet. 

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I brought my hand over and traced her thigh with the backs of my fingers. Definitely as smooth as they looked. 

She gave me a curious look and I answered it by trailing my fingers further up her leg, brushing over her stomach briefly before I let my hand drop to her arm that was curled against her chest. I turned my hand over, gently caressing her forearm with my fingertips, tracing all the way up to her hand. I dipped my fingertips between her knuckles so I could lace our fingers together.

“You don’t have any tattoos?” I finally asked after she squeezed my hand.

“Nope.”

“You seem like someone who would.”

“I do, don’t I?”

I nodded. The vibrant purple, the fishnet, those boots. I would’ve sworn there’d be at least one tattoo underneath all that leather. Yet she didn’t. 

“A luxury,” she explained. “I’d rather not spend money on them when I have more pressing, more expensive things to worry about. Like school, groceries, insurance, my sister.”

“Your sister?”

“She’s needy.”

“Ah.”

“I was raised by a skilled money manager. But it gives me lots of time to think about my tattoo choices because you can be damned sure I’m going to get some later.”

“Oh, of course. What are your ideas?”

She shrugged her shoulders as much as she could while laying down and lifted her head up a bit. My own body had mirrored hers when I laid down on my side facing her. It was nice, to lay here and just talk. Nothing to do, nothing to distract us.

Winnie talked for nearly an hour about some of her ideas. She wanted a tattoo sleeve for sure, on her left arm branching off her shoulder like it broke away from her collarbone to extend down her bicep. She flexed her arm when she said this and I was honestly surprised at the muscle she had. The idea of her tattoo fading at her wrist intrigued me, especially when she talked about watercolors and creatures of the ocean. It would be an extensive piece, she said, all by one artist that she would collaborate with.

She wanted something to represent her mother and sister, possibly on her foot or ankle. The quote “our lives consist of efforts we give of swimming towards a lost continent” was to be written on her ribs. On the backs of her calves, a bridge that she designed connecting her two legs when they touch. 

“That you designed?”

“Yeah.”

“You design bridges for fun?”

“That’s the dream. Fun and money. Gotta get paid too.”

I blinked at her and that’s when she laughed, rolling back slightly on the bed. When she returned, she snuggled closer and tossed a leg over mine. “You never did ask me what my major is.”

My mouth dropped. I was such an idiot. This was the start of our fourth day together and I knew her  _ sister’s major _ (that she was likely going to change by the end of the semester) but I hadn’t asked the person  _ attached to me  _ what her major was.

Although, if the wide and amused smile on her face was any indication, she—thankfully—wasn’t upset.

“Civil engineering. Structural. I wanna build bridges.”

Unexpected.

“Among other things, but I love bridge designs the most.”

I reached out and placed my hand on her bicep, squeezing.

“I have a part-time construction gig. Lots of heavy lifting.”

“Huh.”

I glanced at her lips. Not on purpose or anything I just wanted to kiss her. In that moment I really wanted to kiss her. It had more to do with the pure joy of learning more about her than anything sexual or romantic. 

“You are full of surprises.”

The downside of staring at someone’s lips when they’re so close to you is that they’re going to notice. Which she did. And she followed suit, her eyes focusing on mine.

This wasn’t a dream this time. I could kiss her if I wanted to. If I wanted to throw my Red Week book out the window and stop following the instructions of my past self, I could. Sure I had spent all that time planning but no one can plan for someone like Winifred Yung.

As I started to move forward, she brought her hand up to my face, palm cupping my cheek as her thumb brushed over my bottom lip. Without thinking, my lips parted and I stopped moving closer.

“What about you?”

“Wha?”

“Do you want any tattoos?” She asked in the most nonchalant voice. As if her thumb wasn’t caressing my lip in the most intimate of ways that was sending my heart into a fit. As if I hadn’t just tried to kiss her.

“I-I hadn’t really thought about it before.” Somehow those words stuttered past my lips as I tried desperately to grasp reality again and usher my mind away from the unrelenting thoughts of kissing.

She nodded, thumb pushing at my upper lip. I think she was fooling around at this point, manipulating my lips into weird positions to play a trick on my heart and make me think she was romantic when really she was a dork.

“But I’m terrified of needles, and pain. I don’t think I’d ever want to get a tattoo. I really like airbrush tattoos, though.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded, smiling, almost laughing at the way my lip caught on her thumb before she pulled it away and rested it on my chin. “Whenever we went to carnivals I would always get an airbrush tattoo. Something pink and usually with glitter.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She grinned, fingers gliding down my jawline, making me shiver when she reached my neck.

“Because I’m a princess?” I answered playfully, remembering when she addressed me as such when I insisted she open my door for me.

“Mm, you’re my princess,” she agreed with the most genuine voice someone could use with a statement like that.

We were only a breath away from kissing each other, from breaking the string as her fingers trailed slowly along my collarbone. But I don’t even think kissing could have made this interaction more intimate. We were at our limit. The closeness, the softness of our voices and touches, the way our eyes remained connected despite how much I might want to look away in embarrassment. All I wanted to do was melt into the bed with her, listen to her voice and stare at her face as she talked, smiled, whispered, laughed, and to feel her fingers on my skin.

“Knock, knock!” The loud voice replaced the sound of actual knocks, ruining the moment in an instant.

I sighed, craning my neck and twisted my back to look at the closed bathroom door. “What Jazz?”

“I have breakfast for the newly tied! I hope you’re decent!”

I glanced down at Winnie who shrugged, not caring that she was only wearing a bra and panties. My tank top and shorts were good enough for me so I called over my shoulder, “come on in.”

With the biggest grin on her face that I had ever seen, Jazz burst through the door holding a tray from Meal Hall. It was crammed full with fruit, toast with little packets of jam and peanut butter, bagels with cream cheese spread over them, and bottles of water.

“How did you sneak a tray out of Meal Hall?”

“I have my methods.” That just gave me more questions than answers because those did not fit into any sort of regular sized bag. They were long and wide and awkward. And the meal hall staff barely let you take food out of the place - let alone the trays. But it was placed down onto my lap as I scooted up the bed, sticking a pillow behind my back to lean on. Winnie continued to lie as she was, reaching over to grab a banana from the tray.

“Thanks for the grub.”

“You’re very welcome, purple-haired lady tied to my suitemate.”

“Winifred, call me Fred.”

I squinted at her when she said that. When we met, she’d given me a whole list of alternate names to call her. 

“Fred, nice to meet you. I’m Jasmine, Jazz is fine.”

Even as I picked up a bagel I could feel her eyes boring into me. “What, Jazz?”

She was looming over the bed, staring down at us with a look I could only describe as adoring. “You two are so cute together! Laying in bed, not a care in the world, wrapped up in each other. So romantic!”

“Jazz.”

“I know, I know. Three’s a crowd. I’ll let you get back to bonding, I just wanted to do something for you both. Breakfast is really important and it didn’t seem like you were making an effort to eat breakfast these past few days since you haven’t been to Meal Hall.”

“So you brought Meal Hall to us?”

“Exactly!”

“Thanks Jazz. Good neighbour you’ve got, Tam.”

Jazz grinned wide, happily accepting the praise. I was fairly certain I’d gotten a mother-hen in this friendship deal with her and it wasn’t something I had initially expected. Jazz was attentive, easily excitable about certain things, but I had never pictured her as such a romantic when it came to being tied.

“Yes, thank you, Jazz,” I said with deliberate enunciation. 

“You, okay, gotcha!” With that she practically skipped back over to the door but paused when her hand touched the handle. “Oh, oh, oh! Question for you.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Yeah?”

“Before you break the string, would I be able to get some pictures of you two?”

Winnie narrowed her eyes, leaning over into my lap. “I like her but is she your stalker? I might take issue with that.”

Now I definitely laughed, loud and heartily. Jazz joined me. “Photography major,” I explained.

“Ah, so you wanna do a red string shoot?”

“I’ve done it with all my friends who’ve gotten tied before - not too many of them, but I’d like to have them for my portfolio or for if I ever build a project around getting tied.”

Winnie nodded. “I don’t mind. Tam?”

To have photos of us while we were tied, to possibly look at one day as fond memories. “I would love to. Thanks, Jazz.”

“Yes!” Jazz actually jumped with joy. “Perfect! When do you plan on breaking the string?”

“Not until the last day,” Winnie explained, but I was looking at Jazz when she asked that. She knew about my Red Week book and my rule to not break the string. She was looking at Winnie when she asked, not me. Definitely a mother-hen.

“Great! You’re on your fourth day, right? So, Monday is your last day.”

I looked up as I counted in my head, we had been tied on Tuesday when I was meant to be going to my Chemistry class. “Yes.”

“Okay, I have class at eight-thirty in the morning but I’m free until one after that. So, ten? Meet in the quad?”

“Yeah, I think we can manage that.”

“Awesome! This is going to be the best! Now you two relax, have a great day with each other and go outside! It’s supposed to be really nice out today.”

With that, Jazz disappeared into our shared bathroom and back into her own dorm room.

“Was she a cheerleader in high school? That girl has a lot of energy.”

“She’s usually calmer. I think the string brings that out in her.”

“I’d hate to see what she’s like when she gets tied herself.” Winnie mused over that thought for a moment. “No wait, I’d love to see it. Then film it and get lots of views on twitter because that would go viral.”

“Stop,” I said, laughing and biting into the bagel that had been in a sort of limbo on its way to my mouth since Jazz asked about taking photos.

“Who has that amount of energy in the morning?”

“Someone who’s capable of sneaking this much food out of Meal Hall  _ and a tray  _ without being caught is not someone who should be questioned. She’s got powers. Not to be meddled with clearly.”

“Magic. I knew it. She’s a sprite.”

I nearly choked on the water I had just chugged from the bottle. “Stop turning my suitemate into a conspiracy theory.”

“I’m just saying, sound logic right there.”

“Or no logic. A sprite. Really?”

“They might exist. We don’t know.”

I rolled my eyes and continued to eat the food that Jazz so generously stole for us. Not that it was stealing exactly, since we all paid for a meal plan but they didn’t allow you to take the food outside of the hall even though it was buffet style. Winnie sat up a little more and picked at the food; by this point I was certain breakfast wasn’t a usual meal for her. She hadn’t eaten much these past mornings and we couldn’t blame that on the lack of Meal Hall trips. I had plenty of fruit and bars in my room and she had barely touched them even when offered.

“Do you want to go for a walk today? We could go to the end of Bridge Street.”

“What’s at the end of Bridge Street?”

I raised my eyebrows as I bit into a second bagel.

She blinked and then sighed. “A bridge?”

My smirk was enough of an answer for her.

***

“Why didn’t you say it was this far?” Winnie asked, slowing her pace with each step as she dragged her feet.

I had to turn around to face her. “It’s not that far. Ten more minutes and we’ll be there.”

She stopped on the side of the road, staring at me with the most unimpressed expression. “We could have drove there.”

“You can’t be that tired, we’ve only been walking for twenty minutes.”

“Twenty-five minutes.”

“Are you telling me that you have awesome guns from construction work but can’t walk in the cold for half an hour?” I grinned playfully, walking back to her and taking her by the wrists to pull her forward. “I’m sure you can manage.”

“I haven’t had coffee yet.”

“Oh yes, that makes all the sense.”

She groaned as I pulled her along. “I can heavy lift but I’ve got zero stamina… I have got to quit smoking.”

I wasn’t going to say anything. I’d already expressed how much I disliked her habit and it was true; if she didn’t smoke she wouldn’t get winded as quickly.

“You got this,” I assured her. “Ten more minutes and we’ll get a break. We can sit at the bridge, see the amazing sights, and just talk.”

“Okay.” She sighed, standing up straight and walking with me rather than being dragged along. I released one of her hands, slipping my other hand down her wrist to intertwine our fingers as I turned and walked next to her. She rubbed my hand with her thumb, tightening her grip as we walked the rest of the ten minutes that turned out to be eight minutes in silence.

***

“Wow!”

“I know.”

“So this is actually the old bridge they had going through here?” Winnie gestured to the bridge we were currently standing on, which only lasted to the edge and then crumbled away, the space it once took up only a memory. The new bridge for the train crossed the dyke several feet away and faced an entirely different direction. 

“Yeah, they kept this little bit here. Not sure why—I haven’t gotten around to learning all the history of the town yet—but I love it out here. The view of the dykes is incredible.”

She raised her brow at me.

“You’re not funny, stop.”

Winnie laughed, shaking her head as she settled down at the end of the bridge and let her legs dangle over it. It was mildly windy but when was it not in this town? I swear it was a rite of passage for every first year to have their umbrella blow away in the wind never to be seen again. It’s the only way to become a true member of the community; one of the alarming amount of people who don’t use umbrellas when it rains, confusing the freshman, because they know how many umbrellas the wind has taken and that it’s futile to keep fighting.

My scarf blew over my shoulder and I wrapped it around my neck a third time as I sat down, tucking my dress under me. I was thankful that I’d thought to put on tights for this trip. Thin ones so I wouldn’t overheat but enough that I wouldn’t freeze in the open breeze.

A week had passed since the last time I walked out here. I found it a peaceful place to study or journal, and usually brought a small notebook that I would eventually transfer into my Red Week book since most of my random thoughts revolved around that book. At this point I could probably patent the template for “The Perfect Red Week Guidebook.”

My contemplation must have evoked some sort of noise from me because Winnie turned to me with a question in her eyes. I shook my head, smiling at how her hair didn’t seem to be moved by the wind in the slightest. Umbrellas should be coated in whatever hair products she used; then they might stand a chance. This morning had been the first time I actually watched the process of how she achieved her rather impressive mohawk with backcombing, some kind of putty or paste, and then a decent amount of “freeze spray” that most definitely froze the hair enough that it wouldn’t move for another seventy years.

Watching her hair maintenance made me think of my own and when I would have time to tighten my box braids again. I didn’t mind them loose, but it was getting to that point where I wanted them to be perfect.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You hair,” I answered truthfully. “And my hair.”

Her eyes scanned over my braids, the way they whipped in front of my face from the wind.

“I like your hair. It has good volume.”

“Yeah, that’s what I love about these kinds of braids. I’ve been doing them for a while; maybe one day I’ll try something else. I’ve always wanted to try senegalese twists or yarn braids.”

Winnie blinked at me as if I’d just spoken gibberish. “Yes, those sound amazing and would look fantastic on you.”

Points for trying. “I’ll show you some pictures later.”

“Thanks.”

Winnie sighed and leaned back once we finished laughing. “I’ll admit, it was well worth the walk.” 

“Told you.”

“But a car would have been alright, too.”

“You survived.”

“But will I survive the walk back?”

“Yes,” I grinned, knocking her foot with mine. “Even if I have to carry you.”

“Will you pick me up bridal style after I faint?” She put the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were wearing a corset under there. But don’t faint and fall off because I do not want to crawl around in the mud to get you out.”

“Ooooh, that’s something I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

I stammered and blushed all at once, the thoughts that were no doubt in her mind making any semblance of composure fade away. That was just absurd and degrading but imagining her in the mud… well.

Her grin widened, pleased with herself for making me blush  _ yet again.  _ As if it wasn’t one of the easiest things in the world to do. If I was lucky, I would get desensitized to Winnie’s flirting after being exposed to it for a longer period of time and then I would never blush another day of my life. But knowing me, it would continue to have the same effect on me for years to come.

Shaking my head, I scooted over on the bridge until our sides were flush against each other and I rested my head on her shoulder. Winnie placed her hand over mine and laced our fingers together, her thumb rubbing slow patterns into my skin. 

It was calm, peaceful, exactly the kind of atmosphere I loved. The kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward, didn’t feel like we had to fill the air with needless conversation. It was perfectly acceptable for us to enjoy each other’s company without any sounds other than our breath and the nature around us. 

I closed my eyes, feeling the warm sun on my face, focusing on her breathing, the rustling of the tall grass and the leaves of the trees. The water splashed quietly on the mud below us, the cars in the distance on the highway traveling from one province to the next, the birds that landed in the mud or on the new bridge, and Winnie was here to experience it all with me. Sitting side by side, no matter what the situation, hopefully for years to come.

“My parents died.”

I surprised myself more than her with that sentence, my eyes opening wide to stare at the mud but I refused to lift my head or look at her. She tensed up, alert now after being so relaxed, but she didn’t say anything or move away from me. She let me take my time, squeezing my hand to let me know she was listening. 

“A few months ago, five months ago. It was a car accident. Instant. They always say that though, don’t they? Death was instantaneous, no suffering. I still can’t. I can’t talk about it.” I shook my head, taking in a shuddering breath as I calmed myself down from the brink of tears. Once I started, I wouldn’t stop. 

“I moved here to live with my aunt, Mom’s sister. Mom made sure Aunt Mel was a part of my life because she’s the only family she had left. And I guess, she’s sort of the only family I have left since Ma’s family disowned her for staying with my Mom. I don’t know how to talk to her. Everything changed when they died and she’s a great aunt I just, it’s hard. Mel’s an English professor, your sister probably has a class with her. She has a house here and this was one of the universities that I applied to. Not that it was my first choice but considering everything else I couldn’t stay in Vancouver.” I exhaled sharply and felt my eyes water. “Didn’t want to. Moving here was the best option. That’s why I’m here.”

Winnie released my hand and I was terrified for a moment before she wrapped her arm around me, pulling me closer, and resting her head against mine. This time the silence was a little harder, a little more forced, but also not something we needed to fill with unnecessary words. She simply held onto me while I cried.

***

Somehow we ended up laying down on our backs, my head on her shoulders as we stared up at the sky and watched the clouds shift and change shape. We both felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She ignored it at first. Then it buzzed five more times and she sighed, fishing it out of her pocket.

“My sister wants to meet you.”

I didn’t say anything.

“She’s at the Bridge Street Cafe. What a coincidence. How far is that?”

“Back on campus. Sort of.”

“Damnit.”

“You’d still have to walk back to campus eventually. Your car is further away from us than my dorm is.”

“I know.”

I laughed, rolling over and curling myself up against her side.

“Stop getting more comfortable. Sister. Wants to meet you. Also lunch - or rather  _ late  _ lunch. Do they have food at this cafe other than cookies?”

“Oat cakes.”

“Oh wow, such an improvement.”

I laughed into her shoulder. “And wraps and sandwiches and stuff.”

“Good. I could also go for a coffee, haven’t had one in a few days.”

“Sorry, have I been depriving you? We have coffee on campus.” Instantly I was worried that I had such a monopoly on her time these past four days that she was giving up regular routines in her life to cater to me and my silly plans. I would be the worst string mate in the history of- over-exaggerating because there was no way I could be worse than all the horror stories I’d stumbled upon during my years of research. But still, I wouldn’t feel very happy about it.

“Nah, I’m not that dependent on it. Nice to have once in awhile though.”

Phew. That was a relief.

“Plus, Megan will be drinking coffee while we’re there and that will make me want to get coffee. It’s a vicious cycle. She’s probably the only reason I started drinking coffee in the first place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m her big sister and I have to one-up her.”

“With coffee?”

“And espresso, sometimes at the same time.” Winnie shrugged her shoulders, mostly to remind me that my head was still on her and we would have to get up and go to meet this alleged sister. Begrudgingly, I forced myself to sit up and my side was immediately cooled from the lack of Winnie’s body heat warming me up.

“Cold?” she asked, pointing at the goosebumps on my arms.

“I’ll be fine once we start moving again.”

Winnie stood up fast enough that I thought she really was going to make me drag her out of the mud today. She didn’t fall over, thankfully. Instead she offered me her hand and I didn’t let go of it even after she helped me up. We walked back down the path and toward the road, the red string swinging loose beneath our joined hands like it was happy to take a break from connecting us.

***

“Hold up.” I tugged on Winnie’s hand as she nearly walked straight past the door to the cafe.

“Oh.” Winnie looked confused, almost disappointed, as I opened the door and held it open for her. But then I gestured with our joined hands for her to enter and her smile grew wide and genuine and she tugged me close as she entered first with me right behind her. 

As usual the cafe was lively and full of students. Not exactly packed but there were few seats available and many students were there to chat with their friends, discuss projects, but mostly they had their headphones in and were typing away at their laptops. Some people just couldn’t study in the library, they needed the buzz of other people around them, and enough windows that they didn’t feel isolated from the world. 

Winnie looked around the cafe as we stood in line and I followed her gaze, eager to see what her sister looked like. Maybe she had a green hair instead, maybe it was a shorter, mini-mohawk aspiring to be as majestic as Winnie’s but beautiful in its own way. In the corner, an entirely too normal looking girl glanced up from her laptop and gave a disinterested wave before returning to her work. 

“Be right back,” Winnie whispered in my ear, her grip loosening on mine. “Can you get me a coffee with a shot of vanilla if they have it? If not, black is fine. And whatever wrap thing you think is best.”

“Oh, okay.” I forced myself to look away from her sister and smile at her. She let go of my hand and the string lengthened between us until she sat down across from her sister and peered over her laptop screen.

She did not have a green mohawk. 

Megan’s hair was dark brown and sleek, no shaved sections, no vibrant or unnatural colors or an excessive amount of product to make it stand high. It was long and straight and had the healthiest shine I had ever seen. She was so lucky to have a mom that was a hairdresser. The makeup made a drastic difference in their appearances as well. Megan’s makeup was light and natural, soft pinks and minimal eyeliner and lipgloss. I didn’t think I would live to see the day when Winnie wore lipgloss.

And then there were the clothes. There was no fishnet, no spikes, no leather, nothing that would indicate that Megan would ever borrow something from Winnie’s closet. Or vice versa. Megan’s clothes looked like they should have been in my closet because of how bright and pastel they were and those cute brown ankle boots were exactly the kind of boots I’d been looking for. We would have to exchange fashion tips later. 

“Hey there, what can I get you?”

I turned to the barista and placed my order along with Winnie’s, hopefully getting a wrap that she would like. The barista didn’t even ask me which table I was sitting at so someone could bring out order to us; it was blatantly obvious with the flash of red cutting through the entire cafe. A bunch of people had seen it and smiled at us, though thankfully no one clapped or cheered because this was a nice cafe and that would disrupt people who were studying. 

“So you’re the one that got tied, huh?”

I was about to walk over to join Winnie and her sister but the familiar voice stopped me. “Um,”—I turned to face Jason from my Chem class, he sat behind me most days—“Yeah, I did.”

“Too bad, I was gonna ask you out.”

That was rather shocking. All Jason ever did was mock the teacher over my shoulder or interrupt me whenever I spoke up in class with what he believed was the better point. At no point had he expressed an interest in me.

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of what to say. A part of me felt that was a little inappropriate, saying that to someone whose red string was right there, people passing through it was they moved about the cafe. 

“I could still ask you out, if you want.”

Okay that was definitely inappropriate.

“You know, if things don’t work out-”

“Things have already worked out, so the answer is no.” 

I was so proud of myself for standing up to him that I couldn’t contain my grin as I walked away. I never had that kind of confidence before, Winnie was really bringing that out in me. Both sisters looked up at me when I got to the table and gave me the exact same expression. Furrowed brows, an amused yet confused grin. They were sisters alright.

“What happened to you?”

“Oh nothing.” I smiled as I sat down in the chair next to Winnie, unable to contain my happiness about this person being in my life, being mine, being hers. Winnie furrowed her brows and playfully knocked her shoulder against mine. I retaliated by reaching for her hand under the table. 

“Aw, aren’t you two adorable.”

I laughed, leaning into Winnie with ease. We probably were; and, for once, I wasn’t embarrassed.

“Shut up,” Winnie warned her sister but she was smiling nonetheless. “Tamryn this is my sister, Megan. Meggie, Tam.”

“Don’t call me that.”

I pursed my lips together to hold back a giggle as they glowered at each other, surely prepared to battle if they weren’t in such a public place. Thankfully our order was delivered to us and that broke some of the tension and I decided that was a good a time as any to start a conversation.

“So you’re an English major, huh?” I asked. “Do you have any classes with my aunt, Professor Sealy?”

“Oh no, we’re not doing the “small talk” thing. I’ve got an essay to write, books to read, and two reports about Hamlet to write - please ask your aunt why she feels the need to teach the same boring play  _ at the same time _ as another professor.”

“Hamlet is not boring.”

“Oh, but it is, and here’s why-”

“Meggie, you said you weren’t doing small talk. If you don’t want to talk to my soulmate then why’d you want to meet her?”

Meggie shrugged. “Wanted to see what she looked like. She’s way out of your league, like by a lot. Are you sure the string didn’t get this wrong?”

Strangely, Winnie didn’t seem that upset. It was clear that Megan’s intention was to rile her up but Winnie just rolled her eyes and muttered, “pest.”

“No one’s out of anyone’s league, though.” For some reason I was compelled to speak up for our relationship, for Winnie and the bond that we shared. “It’s destiny, doesn’t matter what people look like. You’ll see when you get tied.”

“Oh, thankfully I won’t get tied. I’m incredibly aromantic. But you two have fun! Go out there and make Fred seem more respectable for having snagged someone like you.”

Winnie reached across the table and pushed the screen of Megan’s laptop closed. “I’m going to get a to-go cup for my coffee.”

It was hard to process their particular brand of sisterly love. Though I wouldn’t know much about it, other than what I’d seen on television, from friends, and my mom’s distant relationship with my aunt. I was also stuck on ‘Fred.’ Winnie told Jazz to call her Fred, her sister called her Fred. If that was her preferred name, why did she allow me to call her Winnie? Was I the only one?

“I love your style, by the way.”

“What?” I turned back to Megan. Her laptop was open again and she was staring at the screen, not bothering to look at me as she continued to speak. 

“That dress is adorable, your hair is beautiful, those shoes are something I need to have in my closet pronto. But listen.” She looked up from her computer, looking past me rather than at me. I watched her eyes move from where the counter was behind us to the door that rang as it was opened and closed, before looking at me. “If you hurt Fred, I will make your life miserable. Don’t be fooled by her whole tough as nails facade—yeah she is tough and can kick people’s butts—but she’s a total softy and she’s kind of fragile. She’d never admit it. She’s too guarded for that. Be gentle with her. If you hurt her, or if you tell her I’m worried about her, those shoes are forfeit.”

“I’m not going to hurt her.” A soft smile spread across my face. “I want to be with her. Not just for the week.”

“Good. Now get going before she comes back inside and brings that cigarette stench with her. We can talk more after you two finish this whole Red Week business.”

I nodded, smiling wider. She was an interesting person and I was happy that she cared about her sister. “Nice meeting you, Megan.”

“My pleasure, I’m sure.”

After getting my coffee transferred to a to-go cup and putting our food into my bag, I found Winnie further up the road outside, leaning against a building with a cigarette in her hand and no sign of the coffee that she no doubt chugged. She took one more drag when she saw me before lifting her foot and stubbing out the cigarette.

“So that’s my demon sister, glad you two could finally meet.”

“I like her. She’s exactly like you.”

“Excuse you?”

“Only in reverse.”

“Okay, you’re going to need to elaborate. We’re nothing alike.”

I grinned, reaching into the pocket of her sweater and pulling out the package of gum, cracking a piece into her hand. “You look terrifying on the outside. Punk, rebellious, could probably kill me. But you’re a sweetheart under all that leather, a total softy.”

She raised her eyebrow, trying to look offended but I could see the smile she was trying to hide, especially in her eyes which may as well have been basically sparkling. 

“Your sister is the opposite. Sweet and pastel on the outside and the attitude you’d expect from a rattlesnake. But a nice rattlesnake that’s not poisonous anymore and they might not want to bite you, but they do want to make sure you’re afraid of them.”

“That is such a weird analogy yet somehow accurate?”

“I think I’m going to like getting to know your sister.” We started walking down the loop in the road toward the quad and I instinctively reached for her hand. “Maybe I can find a version of Megan that isn’t always staring at a computer screen.”

“Yes that would be the version that is staring at her phone. She’s compulsively organized and always working, but she loses interest quickly. So even though she was working on a  _ detailed  _ outline for her English paper and annotated bibliography—because she’s already done all the research and has everything in perfect MLA formatting—she’ll probably change her major before the end of the semester. She’s already bored of Hamlet and she’ll need something new to indulge in. Don’t worry, she doesn’t always have her study blinders on. Believe it or not, she can make eye contact for longer than three seconds.”

“Oh, I’m impressed. I look forward to many staring contests.”

“She’s good at those, I’ve never won a single time. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Siblings are weird.” I took a drink of my latte and I knew I was going to regret having caffeine so late. “I’m hungry, Meal Hall?”

“But I haven’t eaten my sandwich yet.”

“We’ll put it in the fridge and you can have it later. We should probably eat a proper meal. I know my oat cake isn’t going to hold me over.”

“Alright, sound plan. Speaking of plans, I have a surprise for you tonight. Make sure you think up a cute, warm outfit.”

I groaned, slowing down but Winnie kept pulling me forward. Why did we have to be doing something cold? What activities in early autumn required warm outfits? “I’m suspicious, but you’re tied to me so I guess I’ll go along with it.”

Winnie hip checked me as we entered Meal Hall. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

I bit my lip as I leaned against her, not caring at all the people in the queue that were staring at us and the string that dangled between our hands. “I trust your judgement.”

She grinned, throwing her arm over my shoulder and tugging me closer to her side. “Good to know.”

***

While Winnie went out to “get supplies,” I stayed in my dorm to pick out my cute  _ and warm _ outfit. After tearing through my closet, trying on an endless combination of clothes and consulting my Red Week book more times than I ever had in the past, I decided on the perfect outfit.

I was surprised that I ended up with my burgundy scoop neck dress. It wasn’t necessarily one of my favorites, it hadn’t made it into my ‘current’ Red Week outfits - but it was long sleeved and perfect for keeping my arms warm without overheating me if it wasn’t that cold. That combined with a flyaway black sweater, a thin leopard print belt, some leggings and tall brown boots; I was ready for the evening.

My hair was left loose, framing my face with a pair of gold dangling earrings and a matching necklace. I was admiring myself in the mirror when my phone buzzed with a message from Winnie. She was waiting in the parking lot. Apparently we were going to be driving.

***

Winnie was leaning against the hood of her car as I jaywalked across the street that was completely free of traffic. This wasn’t exactly the most booming and busy town, even during the school year. I was impressed, mostly because she wasn’t smoking before I got there, but also because she looked gorgeous. Her mohawk wasn’t standing high; instead she had curled it, making it look like purple waves going back along her head. I wondered where she’d gotten access to a curling iron but my answer was probably living right next door to me. Winnie was wearing the same  _ tight _ black pants she’d worn on Thursday and I still didn’t understand how she got into those - maybe they were spray painted on. Her leather jacket was commonplace but it was the gray, high-collared crop top that caught my eye. Or rather the skin of her belly that it exposed. I’d seen her stomach before but this outfit looked incredible on her and I was fairly certain I was staring at her belly as I approached because I couldn’t stop thinking about how good a belly-button piercing would look on her.

“Pretty hot right?” Winnie asked, sliding her palm across her stomach and posing with her hand on her hip. 

Definitely staring.

“You don’t have any piercings.” I ignored her antics, mostly for my own sanity.

“Not even on my ears.”

“Is that the same reason you don’t have tattoos?” I asked as she took my arm and guided me over to the passenger side of the car.

“Nah,” she opened my door for me, “I just don’t want a piece of metal jabbing a hole into my skin.”

I laughed as I slid into the car. She was scared of needles but she wanted to get tattoos eventually, that would be interesting to see. I’d probably end up holding her hand and comforting her the whole time instead of laughing though. 

“Plus, Mum would probably kill me. She has some limits to her daughter’s rebellion,” Winnie said, winking as she closed the door and joined me inside the car. I was delighted to see that she had already warmed it up.

“So I imagine you’re not going to tell me where we’re going, or why it’s going to be cold. Or why you’re wearing a crop top when it’s cold.”

“Nope.” She grinned as she slid into the driver’s seat. “In fact, you’re going to close your eyes the whole way there.”

She couldn’t be serious. “I’m not keeping my eyes closed the whole time. Besides, how would you know if I peeked? It’s not like you can watch me when you’re driving. I don’t want to get into an accident.”

“I have a solution for that.”

Winnie waggled her eyebrows before she threw herself between the seats so she half-crawled into the backseat. I watched her as she dug around, or rather I tried desperately not to stare at her butt that was right there in my face. Her cute, kinda flat, butt.

“Stop staring at my totally round butt,” Winnie said as she actually wiggled her bottom in my face. I cracked up, falling back against the car door.

“Yeah, round, completely, one hundred percent.”

“Oh whatever Sealy, you like it.”

“It does fill out those jeans nicely.”

“Well thank you.”

“Being as tight as they are, it probably doesn’t take much to fill them.”

“Hey!”

She sat back up, mouth agape but eyes smiling as I laughed openly. Winnie seemed almost proud that I was teasing her and honestly, I was a little proud of myself too. “I like your flat butt, it’s a nice butt.”

“Who knew getting you to say full sentences would end this way.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

She bit her lower lip and I watched her eyes dart down to my mouth. My smile faded slightly as we stared at each other for a long moment, bodies naturally being drawn close together. She stopped herself with a hand on my headrest and pulled herself back. 

“I’ll get my wish on Monday.”

I remembered to breathe when she turned away and continued rummaging through the disaster zone that was her backseat. Maybe I could get her to clean it one day, really clean it, with gloves and disinfectant and at least five large garbage bags. I’d add it to the list, right under ‘ask her to quit smoking’ - which would make a substantial difference in our bank accounts over the next few years if she wasn’t spending money on cigarettes and I wasn’t investing stock in all brands of gum and breath mints. 

It was going to be rather difficult to bring that wish up. I didn’t want to pressure her into giving up something - even if it was a habit that could give us both lung cancer. It wasn’t like I’d give her an ultimatum: “quit smoking or I’m gone once the string is broken” because, let’s be honest, I wouldn’t hesitate to invest all my savings into the best brand of smoke-canceling gum if she wanted to keep smoking - but I didn’t want her to keep smoking.

“This is for you, princess.”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname before I saw what she was holding. “No. Not happening.”

“Come on! It’s a surprise!”

“It’s already dark outside!”

“Not that dark, sun hasn’t gone down yet and there are street lights. Plus my headlights. I can’t have you seeing signs and guessing where we’re going.”

“I honestly don’t know this area well. I’ve only lived here a couple months. I’m from the whole other side of the country!”

“It’s a surprise, Tam.”

***

“Can I take this blindfold off yet?” I asked for probably the twentieth time.

“No way, it looks good on you. Really pulls your outfit together if you ask me.”

“Sounds like you don’t have any fashion sense to me.”

“Harsh.”

“You’re not even playing music, it’s creepy. This is how a horror movie starts.”

“You clearly haven’t seen a wide variety of horror films.”

“If this were the nineties, I’d be dead.”

“To think a romantic blindfolded car ride is a horror plot, I’m hurt.”

“How is this romantic?”

“I’m here, you’re here, I bought that blindfold from a sex shop.”

“Winifred!”

“What? Where else are you supposed to buy blindfolds?”

“I don’t know but that- it’s- are we there yet?”

“Almost. No peeking.”

“I can’t see anything through your sexy blindfold, don’t worry,” I grumbled, fidgeting in my seat. “Stop snickering.”

“Can’t help it, you’re too cute.”

“It’s the blindfold, obviously. Cutest accessory ever. Newest fashion trend for the fall. I’m just sad that I didn’t have time to bejewel it.”

“If I call you sassy will you hit me?”

“No.”

“Thanks.”

“But only because I can’t see you and I don’t want to make you crash.”

“Ah.”

***

I felt the car slow down and turn, and somehow I managed to keep my mouth shut about whether or not we were there yet. The car started to shake and it was almost like I could feel the gravel beneath the wheels as though they were under my own boots. We rocked along, turning and stopping. Each time we stopped, I opened my mouth with a question on the tip of my tongue but I held it back because we would start moving again, albeit slowly. Then the car finally rocked to a full stop.

“Yes, we’re here,” Winnie interrupted me. “You can take off the blindfold now.”

“And ruin my outfit?”

Her response was only silence but I could imagine the amused yet unimpressed look she was giving me. Except by the time I managed to undo the knot of the blindfold, her expression had changed quite a bit. It took a few long blinks to reorient myself but she was smiling at me rather shyly, eager for my reaction and anxious about it all at the same time. So I took a look around. It was dark outside, the sun was slowly setting in the distance, and there were other cars parked all around us, all facing the same direction. In front of us was a large white wall, a screen. 

A smile tugged on the corners of my lips. “What’s playing?”

“The Princess Bride.”

That was not possible. I glanced between her cautious expression and the large white screen on which the movie would be projected and I couldn’t make sense of it. 

“A romantic movie? Yeah it is, I’m actually willing to watch a romantic movie with you.”

“That’s not- well no, this is a classic and not  _ just  _ a romantic movie but-” I couldn’t believe she paid that much attention to that silly little book of mine. “This is word for word out of my Red Week book. The drive-in movie theatre, this exact movie and-”

“Nachos.” Winnie finished my sentence, reaching around the seat to grab a cooler bag. “Fresh from that restaurant back in town.”

“You…”

“It said in your book that this was the first date your parents went on. It’s not our first date but I called in a favor. Friend works here and managed to find a copy of this movie and no one in management was against playing it. I wanted to make this week as special as possible for you and this struck me as an important note in your book.”

I couldn’t take it anymore, the universe was testing my willpower because all I wanted to do in that moment was lunge forward and kiss Winnie so hard that our breath was knocked out of us. She was incredible, thoughtful, everything I could have ever hoped for. So I made the decision and lunged forward.

Winnie’s eyes widened, letting out a surprise noise that sounded like my name but it was muffled and hard to hear. Especially with my hand covering her lips to block mine that so desperately wanted to kiss the string away. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do, but by kissing the back of my hand with the intent of kissing her, I hoped the sentiment was there.

I felt her smile against my palm in slow realization as she pursed her lips together and kissed me back through my hand. In a normal kiss we might have closed our eyes, but we held each other’s gaze and I could feel how much we both wanted to kiss without a barrier. 

“Almost broke you, huh?” she whispered, lips tickling the palm of my hand as she spoke, making me laugh as I wiped away my tears with my sleeve. Winnie slipped her hand around my wrist, bringing my hand back to her lips so she could kiss the back of my hand, my fingertips, my knuckles. 

“Yeah,” I managed to admit. It was a close one. This plan of hers, where we were, the fact that we were sharing in a memory created by my parents when their love was first blossoming. “We almost didn’t make it to the end of the week.”

“Breaking the string three days early. How on earth would we have managed after that?”

I pulled my hand away, forcing myself to focus on the nachos that were sitting between us and not the warmth of her lips. Three more days seemed like an eternity. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, I'd love to hear any feedback anyone has on this story (it's been hiding away for many years so I'm excited to put it out into the world again).
> 
> Follow me on other social media: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/arraleblanc) [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/arraleblanc/)
> 
> A new chapter will be up next Sunday! Thanks for reading!


	5. Day Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is coming so late. I moved this weekend into a new home and I only got internet back this afternoon. It's been an exhausting four days (especially considering we had the first snowstorm on the day that I was moving! We did it, it just too four hours longer than planned with the roads all blocked).

Laying in bed and burning a hole into your ceiling with your thoughts was an excellent way to spend a Saturday morning. I didn’t know why more people didn’t do it.

Winnie was still asleep beside me and I dared not move for fear of waking her and getting the day started earlier than it had to. Honestly I would’ve been quite content with lying as stiff as a board until the sun went down and whoops, guess it’s too late to go and visit your mother today, we’ll have to go another time, so sorry.

What if her mom hated me?

Not that she had reason to. I was a good kid, so to speak. All my friend’s parents loved having me over to dinner or sleepovers, never hesitated to let their kids go out when they learned it was with me. I never had detention once growing up, didn’t stay out late or sneak out to parties, never smoked and never- oh no. I was dating the bad girl. Her mother was going to love me.

“Is there anything I should know about your mom?” I asked once we were on the road and I was now staring holes into the brave windshield wipers that were fending off the rain for us. It’d been so nice out all week that I’d been surprised to see the darker clouds once I finally rolled out of bed that morning and looked out the window. Honestly I didn’t want my first meeting with the in-laws to be in a brightly colored raincoat and rubber boots, I wanted to look classy and not too tacky, but fate had other ideas. Except in-laws was singular in this case and I wasn’t expecting marriage right away.

“Um, just a warning but she’s going to yell at me as soon as we walk in the door because I’ve been screening her calls.”

“You what?”

“She’s loud, so you may want to cover your ears immediately after the door is opened.”

“You’ve been screening your mother’s calls? Didn’t you text her the other night at dinner?”

“Actually, maybe cover your ears before that. She has big windows, she’ll see us coming.”

“Winnie. You got tied and you thought the best thing to do was screen your mother’s calls?”

“If I hadn’t, most of our time would have been spent with me on the phone giving you exhausted looks and eyerolls. Love my mum, best woman in the world, but she could talk forever and she always worries about everything. Are you telling me you accepted any of your aunt’s calls? I never saw you on the phone.”

“My aunt hasn’t called me this week. I emailed her to let her know what happened.”

“You emailed her?”

“Yeah, she checks that more often. She’s a professor at my school, remember.”

“Right.”

“If she had called me, I would have answered though.”

“Okay, I get it! Screening calls is bad. Won’t happen again - I’m lying it will happen again. It’s habit at this point and I’m not the ‘calls home every day’ girl, I’m more like the ‘calls home once a week maybe if she remembers’ girl. And my mum understands that, to an extent. Until she leaves me loud voicemails and I’m forced to confront her.”

“Wow.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I think I’m going to like your mom.”

***

Turns out, I really loved her mom. When we first walked in the front door, Winnie’s prediction came true and I covered my ears. Winnie’s full name rang through the house, loud and threatening, until her mother appeared in the hallway and started talking to Winnie in a softer, still intimidating voice and I could lower my hands. I grinned the whole time, watching Winnie sigh and hang her head as her mother gave her a similar lecture to my ‘don’t screen your mother’s calls’ rant.

When Miss Yung turned her attention to me, she gave me the most welcoming smile and hugged me tight. I was absolutely pleased to meet her.

Their house was small but well decorated and full of musical instruments. Winnie placed the mandolin, that she picked up from her dorm, in the living room where there was also a piano and variations of guitars sitting on display stands all along the wall. I adored the vibrant colors of the house, much better than the generic pale cream walls of my aunt’s apartment that I stayed in the summer before school started. It felt like a home. I missed that feeling.

We got to work on dinner immediately, as her mother was already in the middle of preparing it when we arrived. I chopped some vegetables while the three of us chatted about my science studies, Winnie’s engineering, and about our week so far and the dates we’d been on. She called Winnie “Fred” like everyone else had and I thought I should call her that instead but Miss Yung didn’t flinch when I referred to her as “Winnie” and I relaxed. I still wasn’t sure what the protocol on Winnie’s nicknames were, but if we all knew who we were talking about then it would be okay.

It was a comfortable atmosphere and she was easy to talk to - surprising me because I thought my nerves were going to make me clam up and forget how to speak like a human. Winnie seemed to be enjoying herself, letting us carry the conversation for the most part while she set the table. Apparently she was never a good help in the kitchen when it came to food. This wasn’t surprising to me.

While we waited for dinner to cook on the stove, Winnie and I sat down at the table and listened to her mother tell hilarious stories from Fred’s childhood. Winnie groaned a lot, and I couldn’t stop laughing. Halfway through a particularly embarrassing story involving a trumpet and Winnie’s inability to master any of the string instruments, her sister walked in with music blaring from her headphones loud enough for all of us to hear the catchy pop beat. Winnie was already on her feet, grateful for the interruption, and snuck up behind her sister while she was taking off her shoes. I watched as Winnie pulled the headphones away from Megan’s ears and then let go immediately. The headphones snapped back in place and Megan jumped out of both surprise and pain. 

Miss Yung scolded Fred and then turned to me. “People tell me having two girls must have been so easy; I say gender has nothing to do with it.” She winked at me and I laughed. Then she continued the embarrassing story and I laughed harder.

Over dinner I asked Miss Yung about her salon and we carried the conversation for the majority of the meal. It was fascinating listening to her talk about hair care and hair styling. She often gestured to Winnie’s hair or reached over to run her hands through Megan’s hair as she talked about how she used to cut and style their hair growing up and how she helped them maintain their hair today. Apparently she gave Winnie her first mohawk after months of determination and begging from a fifteen year old Fred. She assured me that it wasn’t because she wanted to deny her daughter the right to express herself by changing or cutting her hair, it’s that she wanted her to be absolutely sure that it was what she wanted because the hair would take a while to grow back. Once convinced, Miss Yung buzzed and styled her hair and Winnie had had that hairstyle ever since, with slight variations and different colors. 

I tried my best to imagine what Winnie must have looked like as a teenager, walking down the hallways of her school with her mohawk for the first time and feeling like a badass. I wondered if that ‘tough as nails’ exterior had always been a part of her or if it was a byproduct of her hair style. 

For that matter, when had she started smoking? Was it something she was peer pressured into doing by the ‘cool kids’ or was she the first ‘cool kid’ to get into it on her own? I was almost positive that Winnie would have been the trendsetter, the first one of her class to rebel against the mainstream, but I wanted to be there. To hear her tell me about her high school years, to know what shaped her into this person that I was attached to. No doubt it was musical influence for her looks, maybe even the smoking. This was a house of musicians.

By the time we finished dinner, Miss Yung had told me many tales from her salon and I was eager to pay it a visit - even if they didn’t have anyone qualified to work with natural hair, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look around. On the other hand, Miss Yung knew many hair stylists in the area and said she would keep an ear out for someone qualified that she could bring in.

Winnie, sadly, got stuck with dish duties but Megan was more than happy to entertain me in the meantime. She dragged me upstairs to her room and I was greeted with a wonderful collection of pastel dresses and statement necklaces. We listened to some kind of pop music that was quite catchy as we went through her closet putting new outfits together that she hadn’t thought of herself. I adored Megan’s clothes; they were adorable and bright and any she had tailored herself. I think I only saw two articles of black clothing, one of which was leggings. I swear she must have avoided the color with the desire of deviating from her sister. They were exact opposites in so many ways. I wondered if I had a sibling, how we might have behaved around each other. 

“Play time’s over kiddies,” Winnie said, grinning and leaning in the open doorway. I paused with a shirt held up against Megan to see if they matched while she continued to insist that I try on all her accessories, including her hats even though I wasn’t a fan of hats. 

Megan gave Winnie a pointed look but took the clothes I was holding and laid them out on the bed next to the other outfits we’d created. “These would look nice with…” she moved over to her impressive display of necklaces and picked out a wide gold statement necklace with a gem in the center. “This one!”

“You know if she fell into the ocean wearing that she’d drown,” Winnie said to me but she was smirking at her sister.

Megan ignored her, placing the necklace down on the shirt before turning her attention to the footwear we had spread out across the floor. “And these boots!”

“You’re cutting into my Tamryn time.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes as I helped Megan lay out her outfit. “You’ve had ‘Tamryn time’ all week. This is ‘Tamryn gets acquainted with your family and learns about when you ate a regurgitated brownie-”

“Not in front of the malcontent, Tam!” Winnie hissed, pointing at her sister who was laughing through her nose.

“-Time,” I finished, smiling wide at her. “And also about the time you thought stairs were a bathroom when you were four-”

“MA! YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO TELL HER THOSE STORIES!” Winnie shouted down the stairs while Megan finally cracked and fell onto her bed, laughing uncontrollably. I held my hand up, stifling my giggles as I walked over to Winnie and wrapped my arms around her waist.

“I’m gonna hear a lot worse eventually.”

“If you keep hanging out with my sister then yeah - but don’t believe anything she says.”

“Fred, I don’t have to lie to make you look bad. The truth is far too good to pass up.”

Winnie rose her brow, pulling me into the hall and closing the door to Megan’s room with a firm tug.

“You’re only admitting defeat!” Megan shouted and I laughed, glancing up at Winnie who rolled her eyes.

“Oh shush, the little brat knows all my secrets and I can’t have her scaring you off.”

“Not likely.”

Winnie blinked at me, momentarily at a loss for words from the lack of hesitation on my part but a grin tugged at her mouth. I realized in that moment that Winnie primarily smiled with the right side of her mouth. Even the full smiles she’d given me, the right side of her lips curved up first and higher.

“Okay, let’s go to my room. I’ll show you some less embarrassing moments of my childhood.” Winnie pulled away slightly but kept her arm around my waist as she led me down the hall. She was blushing; maybe she had misinterpreted why I had been staring at her lips. Although that wasn’t a stretch by any means.

Her room was actually….

“Wow. Did your mom clean your room for you?”

“Ha. Ha.”

“She did!” I heard Megan holler and I challenged Winnie with a stare until she finally sighed and gave in.

“Okay, she did. Happy?”

I smiled, nodding as I walked forward to examine her room. She had a small closet, a dresser and a small mirror (unlike her sister’s full length). There were band and movie posters on the wall and a bookshelf that I was immediately drawn to. A bookshelf full of Stephen King novels and other horror novels judging from the titles.

“I like horror and thrillers.”

“I’ve read some Stephen King actually. Mom loved  _ Dreamcatcher  _ and  _ The Green Mile _ .”

“Oh, that’s unexpected.”

“Yeah, I generally prefer young adult novels if I’m honest.”

“Not sci-fi?”

I shrugged, pulling a particularly large novel off the shelf. “I enjoy some sci-fi but for the most part I prefer studying the actual science rather than the fantastical science that’s molded to fit an author’s needs. Same with movies.”

Flipping open the book I was a little confused to see a single word on an otherwise blank page and only three words in the center of the next page.

“Ah, yeah I love that one. Plays with typography in a way that’s integral to the book. More gothic than anything but definitely creepy.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

I put it back on the shelf, making a mental note to borrow it when I had time to delve into such a heavy book, and turned to the rest of her room. There were no instruments but judging from her dorm, she’d moved all of them there at this point. Any more musical talent and this girl would be unreal. Her bed didn’t have black sheets, as I had imagined, they were white with black pillows though—point to me—and perfectly made. There was also a small chair in the corner of her room, next to her closet with a standing lamp. I could vividly picture a smaller Winnie, Fred, curled up in that chair reading horror novels at night with only the lamp lighting her room. Trying to be quiet and not wake her mother or her sister, staying up late with a book light under her blankets so her mother wouldn’t suspect anything.

I could see Winnie watching me with a smile on her face as I sat in her chair, pulling my feet up. There was concern in her eyes and seeing it made me realize how justified it was. 

“You okay?”

I shrugged one shoulder. The answer was complicated. I was great. This was a wonderful night and I’d had an incredible time meeting her family. It was an experience I wanted to repeat over and over again to get to know them, and her, even more. But I wasn’t okay.

Winnie walked over to me and sat down, cross-legged in front of the chair and gazed up at me. It only took a light touch of her hand on my foot and I breathed out a short, sad laugh. This was the breaking point.

“I wish I could do this.”

The tears welled up before I could calm myself and I had to look up and blink my eyes rapidly to hold them back. It didn’t work. “I’ll never get to do this. You’ll never meet my mothers, see where I grew up, what our house looks like. I’ll never see how you’d all get along. How you’d react to Mom’s threatening lecture she always said she’d give to my soulmate. I was always scared she’d chase them away. Mum would joke about being the superior Stephen King fan, that she knows his books inside and out and she’d give you this ominous look. I doubt you’d be intimidated, they try so hard but they’re such softies. But that won’t happen. You won’t get to meet them.”

Winnie opened her arms to me and I could tell she was moving to get up, to stand and hug me, but instead I took her hands in mine and slid down off the chair. I ended up in her lap and she said nothing. No complaints about how awkward our position was, she just wrapped her arms around my back and held me close. 

My body shook. “I can’t even show you their graves without getting us to the other side of Canada.”

My parents were buried in the same plot sharing one headstone, simple but elegant. My aunt picked it out. She prepared everything when she flew out to Vancouver and I tried to help. The house was my responsibility. I couldn’t keep much, what with travelling to the other side of the country, and that was the hardest part. Their book collection had to go but I kept a few, the ones that were worn from years of rereading, the ones that had handwritten notes, the ones they’d loved to excess. Clothes, art, jewelry, furniture was all sold or donated or packed in my own belongings because I couldn’t give them up. I got rid of much of my own belongings to make more room for theirs.

The distance between me and my home, my parents, my memories, was unbearable at the best of times, but now… 

“We’ll do it,” Winnie whispered confidently, rubbing my back. “One day soon we’ll save up some money and we’ll fly out there. I’ll tell them how happy I am to be paired with you, that I wish I could hear all the embarrassing stories about the quiet and charming little girl that they raised to be such a neat freak-”

My laugh was more like a hiccup from the tears but I smiled against her shirt.

“We’ll visit. We will. I promise.”

That night we fell asleep fully clothed, on top of the covers, with me curled against her body as she read  _ Dreamcatcher  _ to me. I felt a little closer to home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, I'd love to hear any feedback anyone has on this story (it's been hiding away for many years so I'm excited to put it out into the world again).
> 
> Follow me on other social media: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/arraleblanc) [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/arraleblanc/)
> 
> The last chapter will be up next Sunday! Thanks for reading!


	6. Day Six

I hugged Winnie’s mother and she squeezed me tight before we left, telling me that I was welcome anytime I wanted to come back. Which was something she could count on. Between coordinating travel times from Winnie’s university and mine, plus our study and class schedules, we would also fit in times to visit her home over the year. Very few people get to have three mothers in their lifetime. A little presumptuous, but I realized during this visit that there was no reason to be afraid of planning for the future. There was no cause for doubt in my relationship with Winnie because this was not going to be a temporary thing that was ending within the week after our lips touched. We weren’t going to break up simply because we weren’t tied to each other, unable to escape the string that pulled us together.

During the drive home, Winnie kept her hand on my thigh when she wasn’t using it to drive and I let my fingers brush over hers. The road stretched out before us, the wind whistled in from the crack of my window. Everything felt right.

“I’m going to call Jazz.” I reached into my purse, pulling out my cell phone. 

“Oh?” Winnie tilted her head toward me.

“I want to do the photoshoot today.”

“But,” Winnie started slowly, “I thought Jazz wanted to capture the moment the string breaks.”

I smiled, knowing Winnie was moments away from using my own rules against me, “I know she does. I said I wanted to wait until the end of this week because of my childhood dream. This silly notion that I could fill the week with meticulous planning. I think I did that mostly because I was afraid. Afraid that whoever I was paired with would need convincing to stay with me and that I’d need to be convinced that we were a good match. That somehow we would need all this time doing exciting things to distract us from wanting to break the string and give us a chance to get to know each other. The reality is far different from the image I concocted. The reality is you. And I never needed to be distracted from that. I know we’ll have plenty of time to plan more adventures, without cramming them into the space of a week, because we’ll have a future whether or not we break the string today or tomorrow. We match.”

“We do,” Winnie smiled, wide and bright. Her genuine, unrestrained smile made my own grow and she squeezed my leg. 

“I don’t want to wait one more day to kiss you just because I made some rule when I was a kid. I want to kiss you because I know I’m going to be with you and because it’s what I’ve been wanting to do for  _ days _ . It’s about time I acted on my desires. So let’s break the string today.”

“You make a convincing argument, Sealy. I can’t say I disagree. Honestly,” Winnie bit her lip and I watched her conflicted face. Hard to imagine she needed to work up the courage to say something but here she was, doing just that. “I was terrified when I met you.”

“I’m sorry, what?” For a moment I thought Winnie might have slammed on the brakes but no, it was my mind that gave me whiplash from the shock and confusion.

Winnie laughed, obviously amused and unsurprised by my reaction. “You’re not exactly the kind of person who would be attracted to someone who wears as much leather as I do. I wear an excessive amount of eyeliner and weigh about five pounds more with all the hair product I use. You have more in common with my little sister than you ever would with me. I thought- I thought I would never get you to like me so I tried to be nonchalant about it-”

“You asked if I wanted to kiss right then and get it over with.” 

“And then you went on about your rule and I thought  _ huh, maybe I do have a chance after all. I have time to get this girl to like me. So I’ll make sure she doesn’t break her rule. _ ”

“Winnie.”

“But you like me now.”

I laughed through my nose, “Not just now but yeah, I like you.”

“Are you sure you don’t need more convincing? I have other talents you haven’t seen yet.”

Oh goodness, I couldn’t even fathom. She was more chivalrous than an Arthurian knight, could play an array of instruments, studied engineering because she loves bridges, could make her hair give her five extra inches of height, and quite possibly rocked leather hard enough to make it a fetish. “Like?”

“No idea. But I’m sure I could make something up if you needed more reasons to like me.”

“I have more than enough reasons, but I’m sure I’ll discover more in the years to come.”

“Years? Oh I dunno about that. Years sound kind of….” I felt a moment of panic before I caught the mischief in her grin. “I’m thinking more along the lines of decades if that’s okay.”

I shook my head. “You’re lucky I like you so much.”

“How much?” Winnie didn’t miss a beat and I caught her eye when she glanced over at me.

“Enough to go to a water park on our first date.”

“Honestly, I thought showing off in a bikini might give you more incentive to stay.”

Clever, I thought as the blush crept onto my cheeks. It’s not that I really  _ needed _ incentive to continue getting to know Winnie but the bikini hadn’t hindered her chances, that’s for sure. She also succeeded in breaking me out of my comfort zone which was precisely what needed to happen. My comfort zone had become a place of retreat from the world in a way that estranged me from most people, my aunt included. Meeting Winnie and getting won over by her charm was good for me. It seemed that the string really did know what’s best.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I laced my fingers with hers.

“Neither am I. Give Jazz a call.”

***

“Are you two  _ sure  _ you want to do this today?”

“For the seventh time: Yes, Jazz!” 

She had asked me three times on the phone and three more times on our way to Waterfowl Park. Of course, there was a two-hour gap in between that time. Before we met up, Winnie and I were both in need of a shower and a change of clothes from yesterday’s unplanned stay at her mother’s house but we were both too drained from that day to get back out on the road again.

Neither of us were planning on changing our mind, no matter how much time had passed.

Winnie wasn’t surprised by my request for her to shower first to give me time to pick out an outfit. Although I had partially planned it in my head the moment Jazz expressed interest in a photoshoot. My dress was bright blue on the top with a sweetheart neckline that tapered into black with a floral print skirt flaring out around my calves. I paired it with my black ankle boots despite wanting to wear my blue heels. Comfort was more practical - I didn’t want my first kiss with Winnie to be followed by blisters and sore feet.

As we traded places, Winnie nodded in approval at the outfit laid out on my bed and I tried hard not to blush since she was only wearing a towel and her wet hair was making drops of water trail down the side of her neck. Far too much temptation now that we were doing things a day early. I could wait another hour. I could hold off until then.

Winnie was wearing nearly the same outfit she was wearing when I first met her, minus the zombie theme. Under her studded leather jacket she was wearing a loose fitted tank top that was a charming shade of blue, a blue that matched my dress well enough for me to believe that was her intention. She had eased up on the makeup, no drastic shade of lipstick and less eyeliner than she usually wore. Her mohawk was standing tall and proud. I couldn’t wait to pose next to her in photos we would treasure for decades to come.

After Jazz was thoroughly convinced of the fact that we were sure, that we were ready, and this was exactly what we wanted, she transitioned into professional photographer mode. 

She instructed us to pose against the railing of the wooden path, in among the low hanging branches that blew in the light breeze. Winnie didn’t even think about it or ask before she hopped up on the railing that I thought would surely break - they were impressively sturdy for wooden structures built in the marshland. I settled between her legs, laughing at her as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Jazz didn’t seem to mind that we made up our own poses and acted a little silly. Several times we were instructed to put our faces closer together, let our noses touch, but never to kiss. That was going to be saved for the last photo and Jazz said she knew the perfect location.

Despite how serious some of the poses probably looked, as instructed by Jazz, Winnie and I couldn’t help but crack up when were were staring into each other’s eyes. We turned it into a contest, dared the other to break first - it was usually me but Winnie followed shortly after. Jazz must have gotten five photos of us laughing for everyone one that was serious.

But Jazz never got fed up with us and never told us to stop laughing or stop moving around. She stood back and let us giggle ourselves silly, capturing the shot from different angles, giving us pointers on how to stand or where to put our hands, how to tilt our heads. It was the right level of chill for us and I thought Jazz had a wonderful knack for this. I couldn’t wait to see how the pictures turned out.

“Alright,” Jazz finally announced as Winnie and I calmed ourselves from laughing at the ‘Romeo and Juliet’ styled pose of her on the ground below the bridge and me leaning over the railing with our hands clasped. “It’s time!”

We followed Jazz over to a more open area of the park where the bridges led out across the water. There was a bit of marsh along one side of the bridge but there were no trees to block the sun from shining down and reflecting off the water that would freeze in the coming months.

The reason Jazz had decided to wear tall rubber boots became abundantly clear when she dropped down off the wooden path and waded into a more shallow marsh area. The water threatened to spill right over the tops of her boots and I worried that she would sink right into the marsh, never to be heard from again.

Jazz, however, didn’t look concerned. She seemed perfectly natural in the water, like she did this all the time and who knows, maybe she did. She looked up, camera help up higher than usual, and instructed us to get closer despite the fact that were were already holding hands and our arms were flush against each other.

“Face each other and hold on - whether to your arms, around the waist, shoulders, whatever feels natural just, close contact is better and then you,” Jazz gestured with her camera and I blushed, nodding at her meaning. I was too excited and embarrassed about what was going to happen to laugh at her as she squirmed at the water leaking over her boots.

I turned to Winnie. Our eyes connected and I sighed, all my nerves vanishing the instant she looped her arms around my waist.

The camera shutter went off but I barely heard it as I ran my hands up the length of her arms, resting them for a brief moment on her shoulders before I slid one hand to her neck and moved the other to cup her cheek. Winnie brought her own hand up, covering my hands with hers. Our strings dangled from our fingers that laced together as I leaned forward.

My lips parted as they caught hers and I gasped, breathing in the air that she exhaled before pressing our lips firmly together. In my dreams it was always one strong and powerful kiss that made everything brighter. The world bloomed around us as everything changed, permanently. But it wasn’t. 

Our lips touched in a series of brief little kisses that escalated into open, ecstatic kisses that left my skin sizzling and magnetized our bodies. Each kiss pulled us a few centimeters closer until we were flush against one another. My palms ended up on the shaved sides of her head, with my fingers tangled in her messy mohawk. Her hands were on my back, fingers gripping the sweater I had thrown over my dress and tugging me closer. 

I thought I would feel the string fade away, feel the connection that held me to the person I’ve grown to love disappear and we’d be on our own again. I didn’t feel the string on my finger anymore. But no connection was lost when it broke. If anything, I felt more connected to her in this moment where I could feel the heat of her breath on my lips as the cold breeze circled us in the open marshland. 

By the time we stopped, I was breathing heavily. Having lost all the air from my lungs despite breathing in all of Winnie’s. In a sense, I had forgotten where we were. In public with a camera pointed at us. Not that I was surprised when reality slowly sunk back in but when I opened my eyes, all that I was focused on was Winnie and the feel of her body against mine. Of the way she was looking into my eyes with this sort of happy shock at what we had experienced.

“Wow,” Jazz whispered after one last faint click from her shutter. How many pictures had she taken of our kisses? Did she capture the exact moment when our string faded from our fingers?

Immediately I pulled my hand from Winnie’s hair and stared at my bare finger where the string had been tied for nearly a week, bright and obvious against my dark skin. I had grown used to it in a way that made my hand seem foreign now. It was gone. And Winnie was still here with me, arms wrapped securely around my waist. Nothing and yet everything had changed.

My whole life I anticipated, imagined, and hoped for the perfect Red Week. I had it all planned out with diagrams and schedules, events and menus. Nothing I had done, not a single year of scrapbooking, could have prepared me for Winifred Yung. Despite trying to follow the plan, to stay true to the hard work I had put into that book, both of us deviated and found ourselves without the need for my guidelines. You can’t plan on how you fall in love.

My Red Week book was not something I regret putting time into, however. Somehow it helped us stay together in the beginning, my obsession giving us a chance to get to know each other and the ideas inside could always be used in the future. 

Winnie took my hand in hers, squeezing gently as her thumb caressed my fingers. I watched as she lifted my hand to kiss where my end of the string had once been.

“Are you ready?”

To kiss again? To take another photo? To end our lover’s retreat and get back to regular life and school? Our weeks together are only getting started and, as long as I was with Winnie, I would be ready for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you so much for reading my story. I'm happy to finally have it out here for everyone to see even if it took me five/six years to publish it. Please leave me a comment letting me know what you think, leave kudos if you liked it, and tell your friends about the story and about my friend Scrah's lovely comic Tied In Red. 
> 
> Follow me on other social media: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/arraleblanc) [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/arraleblanc/)

**Author's Note:**

> Acknowledgements:  
To my friend, affectionately known as Scrah, none of this would have been possible without you. She created the specific red string universe this story takes place in, Red Week and all. I thank her for allowing me to write my own characters within this universe. To Sean and Spencer for editing this story with me and encouraging me to keep going, I never would have published this without your help. Lastly, thank you to my dear friend, Aidi for making cover art that only got to be used for a short time.
> 
> All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, I'd love to hear any feedback anyone has on this story (it's been hiding away for many years so I'm excited to put it out into the world again).


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